


wow - an essay on underground rapping and revenge dancing.

by pacw0man



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: 2/3 of danceracha dont even have beef with 3racha, 3RACHA, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Class Differences, DANCERACHA, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fights, Fist Fights, M/M, Mentions of Anxiety, Past Seo Changbin/Kim Seungmin, Rap Battles, Rich Boys, Smoking, Strangers to Lovers, Swearing, This started as a silly prompt and ended up on a full on blown different thing, Underground rappers 3racha, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:48:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22253668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pacw0man/pseuds/pacw0man
Summary: 3RACHA is an underground rap group who is struggling to find a place between part time jobs and their dreams. They've gained themselves some type of reputation -especially that of being fuckboys; but all they really want is to make it out alive with the conditions they are living in.The Academy is the place where every rich boy and girl of Seoul with connections goes to study Arts - pretty boys with expensive clothes and too much air on their head, would tell you Jisung. But a few of these boys are strangely connected to 3RACHA (yknow, Seungmin being Changbin's ex and all that stuff, plus everything Changbin is not telling).3RACHA makes a diss track, three of the students of the Academy responds by remaking the fuckboy anthem "wow" theirs and calling themselves DANCERACHA, chaos ensues. And well, a lot ton of unresolved feelings, love and fights happen in the meanwhile and the aftermath, as you may imagine when dealing with barely grown-ups.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Hwang Hyunjin, Bang Chan/Kim Woojin, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Lee Felix/Seo Changbin
Comments: 32
Kudos: 109





	1. zone

**Author's Note:**

> Playlist:  
> BMTH - I apologize if you feel something  
> Bülow - Own me  
> 3RACHA - Runner's High  
> DAWN - Money   
> \-   
> read the ending notes for more insight on this work and chapter and the date release of the next chapter. Enjoy your reading :)

1.

The purple lights are dim and low and it reeks of leftover food and that foul smell of a room that has been closed way too long when Changbin opens the door. He quickly scans the area, Jisung is sprawled on the floor, large doe eyes drowsy with sleep while he keeps going on his notebook; Chan’s chin keeps hitting his chest as he tries to stay awake, the music blasting through his earphones loud enough for Changbin to hear from his place on the door. Neither of them has noticed him so far, and something tells him they won’t unless he personally kicks them for staying all weekend in the four walls of the studio. Changbin had always been the best at self-preserving either way.

It is not the first time Changbin comes home to scenes similar like this one; it’s always these two complete animals who think too little about sleeping and too much about their music, spending who knows how long caged in the studio, forcing themselves until he comes back. Changbin is glad he comes back every time.

There is no other home than their little rented studio with his two best friends.

With a heavy sigh, he lets his worries and the unpleasant memories from his trip back home out the door and enters, nudging softly Jisung with his foot before taking Chan’s earphones off. In any other moment Changbin would have laughed at the way both males snapped at the same time, exact same expression on both faces when they turn to whatever has disturbed them. But, this time, he cannot call them sappy nor can he mock them when their annoyed expressions turn into soft eyes and tired smiles. This time, instead, his own eyes turn soft as he lets himself fall onto the sofa on the room, Jisung quick to get up to lay on top of him this time with a content smile. They always miss each other, they only have each other after all.

Sometimes Changbin feels guilty.

“Good trip?” asks Chan, back still to the younger males as he saves everything he has been doing for God knows how long.

Changbin shrugs, laughing when Jisung whines at the movement, “you know how it is,” Chan doesn’t, but he still nods “family shit.”

“Did you two stay here all the while I was gone?” continues the raven-haired male, a question he already knows the answer to, but Jisung goes stiff on top of him so he sighs again.

“I swear it is on me this time, hyung,” Jisung is quick to say, moving off him once again. “I made Chan hyung stay but I just… lost track of time.”

“Aish, Sung,” Changbin chastises the young male on top of him, but it’s soft and fraternal, a hand running through the dishevelled, greasy locks. Jisung nods, even though they all know it will happen again, but plops again on top of his hyung.

“It’s okay, I was gonna stay with or without you bunch” the older man is quick to add, finally turning back to them. For the first time since Changbin entered the room the tense line on Chan’s shoulders relax and the blonde seems to almost melt on the chair.

Changbin wants to retort, add something or ask if it is about that important demo for a new boygroup Chan had been working for the past weeks, but the older is scanning him up and down, brows furrowing as he takes in everything of Changbin’s persona as if there was something there he can’t quite place or catch. So, as many other things he has learnt over the years, he shuts up and waits for his hyung to finish before adding anything that he knows will be dismissed. That’s how Chan works. Every one of them has their quirks. Chan is over analytical and careful, quick to understand everything about his two donsaengs without a word. Jisung has a short temper, quick to snap and even quicker to hit, but sometimes along the years the two older have learnt to tame him down into the cuddly lap dog currently on top of Changbin. Changbin is secretive, he likes his space and he likes to keep to himself more than the others, and they respected him.

“Just family shit?” the older finally asks, eyes now locking into Changbin’s own.

The raven-haired shrugs, debating exactly how much he can tell the other two parts of 3racha, and in his mind disappointed, tired eyes look at him again. The words echo once more. The “ _I don’t understand why you’re doing this”_ , that _“You should be more like him”,_ the final blow _“Do you hate me so much?”_. Changbin had not been able to utter a word then, but the exact same thought appears in his mind as it had appeared then, “ _I don’t hate you, but I hate that you want to buy your own son with foul money”._ He shakes his head, bothering Jisung who whines is his now comfortable sleep, and his foggy eyes focus back on Chan. The blonde has been silent since his question, once more giving time for Changbin to recollect his mind, and it is the kind of thing _they_ wouldn’t let him do. He is so grateful for Chan.

“Mom kept bringing him up,” he finally says, after what feels like forever. Chan’s warm gaze instantly fills with sympathy, for a reason completely different from what Changbin is living, but he feels it either way. “She says,” _that I could go to the Academy instead of being here;_ “she says that he could have gotten me a spot on the Academy” he declares instead. Chan tenses.

The Academy of Arts of Seoul is a topic neither of them like. In fact, the Academy has become a sort of insult, a derogatory term to refer to those brat, rich boys who filled the hallways of the institution. It was not a 3racha thing, but more like everyone on the underground scene knew it. The Academy of Arts of Seoul was a privilege, a terrible, condemning reminder that those attending are better than you, that you are scum, that you do not even have the right to share the same air as them. And that is the attitude of every single student that steps into it. The Academy is the elite, their pristine clothes and blazers a reminder of the difference in class. It almost feels like they are mocking you, knowing that only because their families have the money to pay the insane amount of money necessary to enter, they will be stars. Professional dancers going onto the best studios, producers with no need to have experience producing, mediocre singers becoming famous. Everything that takes years of sweat, blood and tears for the best underground rappers, DJs or dancers. Everything they have been fighting for since they came together: only a dream for them.

“Pretty brainless boys,” mutters Chan, supposedly to go unheard to Changbin, so he just looks somewhere else.

“I just wish she would stop bringing _him_ up,” is all Changbin answers, darkly and unable to say his name out loud. Things were so messy with Seungmin that to this day he finds himself unable to say his name out loud or completely shut those scars. The fact that his mother loved to talk about how good he was doing in everything of course didn’t help. Changbin often thinks that she would have rather had him as a son, and being an in-law was the closest she got to that. A pity, really.

Chan and he hold eye contact for a while, a million things shared in silence before the older smiles at him warmly, and suddenly things weren’t so bad anymore. “Wanna go eat dinner before heading down?”

“Sung, wake up,” is Changbin’s answer to the other male’s proposition. He smiles down at the whiny boy on top of him. Seungmin used to get extremely jealous of Jisung, something about their friendship not clicking in his eyes. In moments like this, when the confused, sleep filled doe eyes of the youngest look up at him with a warmth difficult to explain in words, he can see why Seungmin would feel like that. But Seungmin is the past, and a good night of drinking and free styling is all he needs to escape that demon.

“C’mon Jisung, my treat,” is all the squirrel-like-boy finally needs to abandon him and sprint towards the door, screaming something similar to “meat”. The older duo cannot help but laugh at this, laughing even harder when the youngest comes back, cheeks flushed and muttering that he forgot his shoes and an ahjumma reprimanded him already on the street.

Yeah, _this is home_.

-

The screams of the people were deafening as Changbin walked down from the stage and made a beeline for the bar. Jisung had just finished warming up and a big, cocky smile had found home on his face. Chan, behind them but still visible to the crowd also smiles, but his smile is the same one it always is when he finally finds himself on the stage. Is peaceful, serene, calming, even as he mixes and puts out head banging music for the crowd to enjoy, he looks at peace. He doesn’t mind being the back guy for his two best friends, he enjoys watching them perform and knows he still has a place when he steps out to rap or sing or do whatever is needed. But he finds his place watching over them and over the public, gauging their reactions to help them all improve and give the best performance possible. It is what he thrives on, the need to move people with his music always growing. He still trusts that hard work pays off.

The lights go even lower, and his eyes are unable to see anything for a moment, the crowd’s noise going down to hushed and excited whispers for what’s next. It’s like that every time 3racha performs: the excited fans, the interested by-goers, the quizzical rappers that end up congratulating them, because everyone knows about them, everyone has heard something, everyone has an opinion, everyone is interested. So if they get cocky and their chest fill with pride sometimes, they have a reason why.

“J.One!” someone screams into a mic, and the crowd goes wild again, screams now even higher as a spotlight shines on Jisung and the lights let the faces be barely seen again. That’s his cue to start mixing and playing the music that his friend is going to ride flawlessly. With one hand on his headphones and another one of the mixing table, the blonde directs a tiny smile to the raven-haired rapper that is now by his side, two beers on his hands. Changbin just nods before turning to look at Jisung eating up the stage, and he sips proudly. That is the other thing, that feeling of pride when any of the three performed, and that feeling of knowing someone who cares about you is proud of you.

Watching Jisung and Changbin perform was like jumping from a world to a completely different one. Whereas Changbin was cold, dark and mysterious, never going too close to the sea of people screaming and bopping along, Jisung was up on their faces, frantic energy lapping side to side. Chan preferred it that way, so then by the time the youngest had stopped performing he would be too spent to get drunk or get himself in trouble. This time Jisung is going wilder, practically on top of the front row, the few guards the pub can pay making sure no one gets too rowdy with him and holding him back from completely going in.

“He really has missed you,” Chan directs to the boy beside him, who only nods, the ghost of a smile behind his bottle as he keeps his eyes trained on the wildest of the trio.

Before he even realizes, the song finish and Changbin is tugging at his elbow. They still have two more songs to perform per contract, and it is his own time to shine.

The familiar beat counts down, the thousands of times he listened to this same sample until he perfected the production counting down on his head and then, he starts “ _Run until the tip of your foot burns”_ and the lights go all the way up, blinding everyone as he starts the song, the whole crowd chanting along that _Runner’s High_ that he had come up months back before he lets Jisung take the centre.

It is a big brag; Chan is well aware. The whole song goes on about how different they are, but also the hard work they are putting into this bet of a life, the underground never really gives big opportunities. But hey, what is really wrong with stating the truth? Because if Changbin (who is now up the centre, everyone in awe watching him spit with his rough and dark tone) has written 30 songs in the last few months, he has all the right to talk about it. And what’s better is the validation coming from their fans as they scream and chant along with them. And when Chan finally enters the centre for his verse, his smile is high and so are his brows, because he will get what he is working for even if it’s for one night. The eyes on him a comfort blanket he misses on the dark nights at the studio, the screams from girls when he calls himself hot as if to agree with it, the whole mass a validation he doesn’t where he would get otherwise.

So again, if they decide to brag and being little shits one night every once in a while, who is going to stop them?

The song finishes as it started, the three boys effectively high from performing together and their serotonin levels going upwards to the sky, the fast movement of their chests as their lungs burn for air nothing forgotten and the salty sweat only serves them to shine brighter on the stage. Only one more song, and if Runner’s High is all about being cocky bastards about their success and achievements as producers and rappers at such a young age, Wow is simply an excuse to be cocky fuckboys for the girls who keep screaming their stages names at the top of their lungs. And also, because it feels good to be little shits sometimes.

“Hyung, hyung, hyung, look over there, she’s so pretty,” starts Jisung with his small drama he himself asked to be put in. They always have fun listening and performing this song, letting their stage personas take over them completely in ways they know they can’t reach offstage.

“Wow I really want to date that woman,” the younger continues, his finger directed to no one in particular as to let the fantasy wash over. Chan, on his side, is already giving winks here and there, “there, dressed in grey” Jisung finally decides on a target, establishing eye contact before biting his lip, and Changbin follows him so well that Chan struggles to hold back a laugh.

“ _Excuse me Noona, do you have a boyfriend,”_ the sentence is catchy enough to be in the minds of everyone every time, and as expected, the crowd sings it back with them. And so, again, Chan’s verse is the last and before he even starts Changbin comes to him, another one of their little tricks to rile up the audience further.

“Hyung, what do you think of her?” The raven-haired male asks, eyes set on a pretty girl with short hair and a few tattoos down one of her arms. Chan has to agree, and he instantly nods.

“She’s pretty,” he says, trying to sound bashful before winking in her direction. And, as he had expected, her screams quickly fill the air. It is kind of a reminder, that he (or any of them, really) can make a girl scream without the need to touch her. It does things to a guy’s ego.

It takes less than a minute after that to finish the whole set, the whole pub is wild and Chan can sense on the two males beside him the need they have to buzz out that energy by going further into the underground and freestyling against whoever even dares to. He has already accepted his fate as a guardian of some sorts.

However, as he steps down the stage and approaches the bar for the free drinks the owner always gives them as part of their payment for filling the place to the brims, there are eyes on him. Not the usual from fans and rappers alike, it is a stare that he can feel on his bones and that makes him shiver. And even if the blonde knows that it is almost impossible to find someone, and even less now that the bodies are moving around and moving onto the dance floor, he still tries.

“Hyung!” calls Jisung beside him, making him snap out of that weird instance and turn back to them “Changbin-hyung and I wanna go to the underground” the younger is practically bouncing on his heels, buzzing out as Changbin, calmer, already sips at his drink.

Chan nods, already knowing that was going to be his final destination that night, and reaches out for his own drink. He smiles at him, hand taming down the mess on Jisung’s hair. Changbin is still silent when Jisung starts to ramble on and on about little details about the performance and Chan tries to keep up with him. A newish, trap song by someone he cannot name is sounding now.

And a slow, dark hip-hop song starts playing next, when hell starts to break lose. The first sign Chan gets is the slow shiver that runs up and down his spine. The second, the way Changbin knuckles start to turn white where he is gripping his cup.

“Sung,” Chan starts as a warning to stop, suddenly alert at whatever is making the air so tense. After a bit, his eyes finally land on the three figures on the other end of the bar; he can only recognize one, but he knows the trouble that Seungmin brings if Changbin is involved. What he doesn’t know, though, is what those three are doing in a place like that.

“They are stepping into enemies’ territory,” growls Jisung beside him, eyes on the same spot Chan’s are and all his buzzing happy energy now gone.

“This is no good,” mutters Chan.

Before he can turn around to stop him, the raven-haired male is storming pass him and in the direction of his ex, Jisung hot on his heels. Chan decides to keep going to try and keep the damage to a minimum, even if the strange shivers keep going at him the closer he gets to the trio.

“The fuck are you doing here,” all but spats Changbin, fierce eyes locking into Seungmin’s. There are two obnoxiously pretty boys surrounding the younger, both somehow older. The guy on his left has dark blue hair and cat-like eyes that look completely disinterested. The guy on the right might be the prettiest human Chan has ever seen, with a mole under his left eye and pouty, full lips that look really red under the pub’s light.

Seungmin knows how to play this game better than anyone, thriving of riling up Changbin the same way they thrived of riling up the audience moments before, so he simply shrugs, a sardonic smile on his lips.

“Just wanted to enjoy the performance, why? Can’t I?” asks the younger, tone incredibly fake sweet as he twirls around the straw on his drink.

“No.” Jisung is final when he steps up, wanting to get up on Seungmin’s face. Chan makes to grab him, but Changbin is faster and pushes him behind him. Chan knows that is a blow to Jisung’s ego and need to fight, and that is only going to infuriate him further, but he too would rather have Jisung fight him than create a scene on one of the few places they’ve got to perform in.

“Just leave, Seungmin-ah,” adds Changbin, tone cold and gaze steely.

“You don’t own this place,” retorts the younger. There is a glimmer of something, something that only Changbin could ever understand, and it must be because they’ve known each other for so long and had been together before, but that is enough to have Changbin himself up on his face instead.

“Don’t be a fucking bitch now, will you?”

“Or what, Binnie? What will you do?”

Everything is a blur in that moment. Jisung goes past Changbin, trying to place himself between them and probably snarl something cruel and nasty on the youngest, but the guy on the right is even faster and he pushes Seungmin behind, forehead knocking into Jisung’s even if he is taller.

“Don’t you dare, filthy rat,” hisses the pretty boy in a tone that doesn’t belong with him.

“Or what, pretty boy?” Chan cannot see Jisung well, but he knows his tone, the same he uses to mock someone on a diss or the countless of times he heard it when the younger was looking for a fight and before ending with bloody knuckles. “Will you hit me? C’mon, I really wanna see you try and get your expensive outfit so ruined with blood you have to throw it out.”

That is the last straw for Chan. He has already let things escalate into this, but he will not be tending to anyone’s wounds tonight, so he simply walks up to the two, puts a hand on Jisung’s hand and pushes him hard enough to let them breathe again. He looks at the pretty boy first, there is a sense of familiarity he cannot place and it irks him. And it irks him even further when his eyes meet and those chocolate eyes fill with remorse and shame for a second before the boy averts his stare with a scowl. The blonde simply sighs, now finding Seungmin’s eyes instead and fixing him with a stern stare.

“Just don’t walk into our _zone_ , Seungmin-ah. You should know by now,” he lets out, voice grave and full of authority. The younger flinches for a moment, before gaining his posture again and fixing him back.

“I’m sure my brother will love to know about you, Chan,” he begins, “maybe I’ll tell him to change your contact name to _zookeeper_ ” he adds, the last bit in perfect English, and Chan can only roll his eyes. “That is, if he still has your number.”

“Just fucking go,” he hears Changbin say behind him, voice still cold.

Seungmin rolls his eyes, obviously tired of their shenanigans and “little” fight. He throws some money on the counter, and the blonde can see in his eye movement the moment he reflects about throwing some money at them as well.

“Don’t.” he is quick to say.

“Piyak piyak,” is Seungmin’s final goodbye, and the three boys are moving. And, just for a second, Chan’s eyes linger on the tallest figure without knowing why.

“Let’s go now,” Jisung all but demands, finally stepping out of Chan’s grasp and moving in another direction. “I wanna rip some heads off, and you two won’t let me unless it is metaphorically.”

-

It is late night when Jisung comes to Chan with his notebook full of lyrics he needs to spit. The oldest knows the three of them have been on edge lately, more work up and nervous that he personally likes it, but he has always tried to keep disses off their limits, being the only one with a brain can he hard sometimes.

“Jisung,” he starts, carefully reading over the messy scribbles “it is good but you know I don’t lik-“

“Listen, hyung,” the younger interrupts “yes I know you don’t like it but, just- I know Changbin-hyung needs it too.”

“Don’t throw Bin under the bus, Jisung,”

“I am not!” the younger exclaims, “Changbin-hyung has been trying to keep his distance from that bitch ever since they broke up but he and his nasty little best friend keep coming around him!”

Chan cocks his head, now curious because he had not been informed that this was a common occurrence.

“His mom keeps talking about Seungmin whenever he goes visit and never acknowledges how hard hyung is working,” Jisung’s fists start to turn white from with the strength he is putting on trying not to lash out on Chan. “And the other night was too much, hyung. I can accept anything if it is on neutral territory, but they literally stepped into our zone, into the underground, and tried to spit on hyung.”

Jisung is passionate now, his eyes shimmering with desire for revenge and Chan’s eyes go back to the notebook on his hands. A diss is definitely better than whatever could have happened in the bar the other night. But when Chan thinks back about Seungmin, his mind goes further and stops on Woojin instead. It’s a twirl of emotion what wakes up inside him, a painful mix between longing, wanting, hate and shame when the oldest Kim appears on his mind, wearing the same smile and tousled hair he always does, even if he is there to simply break him. As much as Chan is hurting, he could never hurt Seungmin if that meant hurting Woojin as well.

“You cannot stop me,” Jisung’s voice takes Chan back from the maze of memories and into the present moment, eyes focusing back. “I will not let you do it; I’m sorry, hyung.”

“Ji,” Chan tries, he really tries even if he can understand the logic in Jisung’s brain, to persuade him out of this, tone pleading. Jisung may think of it as a simple song, Chan knows it is asking to start a war he isn’t sure they can win.

“Seungmin sent a package with the Academy’s blazer to Changbin’s apartment, hyung,” Chan’s eyes immediately harden until they match Jisung’s now dark gaze. “It was not the first time he tried to throw money on us; on Changbin. Keep out of it if you wanna, but I am gonna do it.”

Their intense stares lock, measuring one another with a prideful stand. It is a fight of willpower and of stance, and in any other time Chan would have never backed off, claiming his rightful place as the leader of their makeshift group. But the darker part of him, the one that cannot and will not let anyone with money corrupt them nor treat them as if they were somehow inferior what finally makes him courtly nod, lips set in a tight line as he gives his final permission.

“I will be part of this,” he says, because he could never leave his two donsaengs alone on a fight, whatever type it is. “But keep me on a minimum and be ready to face the consequences, Jisung.”

“I knew the consequences since the other night. You are not the only one who would give it all to protect us, hyung.”

-

Lights are already on when Changbin enters in the classroom. Jimin, the owner of the night school is always kind enough to come a tad earlier and put on the AC in days of cold like the ones approaching. She also has the cute habit of letting a cute, encouraging drawing on the blackboard for him to see and which never fails to make him smile and lift his mood before the next hours he is about to face. Jimin has always been kind to him, a sister-like figure ever since he left home and his own sister there, and she also pays good enough for the work he puts in, sometimes giving him a little more on his check and that he is always quick to put into whatever 3racha is needing at the moment.

With great pity the black-haired male erases the blackboard before taking his stash of papers out of his backpack and starting to write all the grammar related to the level he is about to be teaching. Jimin had called him this afternoon in a rush after Sunbi had called her to inform her about her inability to teach tonight because she had fallen sick, so that meant that instead of dealing with his usual classroom full of foreigners on their thirties who were always patient, calm and ready to listen and learn, Changbin will be giving a grammar reinforcement class for teenagers. His mood had been damping before, the prospect of the few next hours with guys who would be anywhere but listening to him only making it worse.

After writing down what he thinks necessary and revising the stuff he will be teaching – or more like repeating until all of them were bored of each other –, Changbin sits down, taking out his personal notebook in case something comes to him, and also a few assignments he needs to grade for tomorrow’s night class.

The students start to fill in, as he expected, various minutes after the official hour of the class supposedly started, and Changbin is quick to start on his lesson, trying to make the bored class participate in some way before he ends up screaming at them. Now more than ever Changbin thinks back of Sunbi and sees her in a completely new light for having to face this day after day. Changbin wonders if these guys where even aware that this classes cost money – to their parents, yeah, but money still.

It is when Changbin is moving onto another block of content, repeating the minutes left on his head like a mantra when the door opens. There, on the barely open door, a new boy who is significantly late tries to squirm his way in, carefully closing the door so it doesn’t make noise. His back is still to Changbin when he finally enters, moving silently between desks until he finds an unoccupied one. For a moment Changbin thinks about falling shut until the boy accommodates himself, but he thinks back of how uncomfortable it made him back on high school when teachers did that to him, so he opts for continuing speaking, his eyes finally leaving the figure that is still trying to settle down and turning back to the blackboard to write some new grammar rules instead.

When he turns back to the class, his eyes scanning every bored face, he somehow ends up once again looking at the newcomer. His face is still a mystery to Changbin as he keeps it low while he searches on his backpack for things, but his hair stands out, honey blonde (not the badly bleached, almost white blonde Chan has been wearing for months now), delicately parted in the middle and so soft looking he could not see a single indication of damage due to the chemical process. On his desk there is now an aquamarine notebook and a phone face down – from what the older can see from his spot in front of the class it seems to be one of those cases with corny jokes on them.

The newcomer finally looks up and Changbin is left speechless. He is beautiful, with pinkish, pouty lips, a button nose, eyes downcast with eyelash fanning softly over his tanned skin and a set of strong eyebrows. And, scattered all over his face, endless amount of precious marks that make him stand out even more. His eyes finally look up, and as it was to expect, his gaze locks with Changbin’s. His eyes are big and round, full of innocence and childlike wonder – Changbin swears his breathing has stopped short in that same moment.

He coughs, retrieving his eyes as the honey blonde guy does, but not without noting the pretty pink spreading on his cheeks now, making his freckles shine brighter. The older has to remind himself that he is in a classroom, supposed to be teaching something about Korean grammar, and that that pretty blush is probably due to be caught being late by a teacher, nothing more.

After what feels like forever Changbin is able to put some work for the class and he can sit back down, opening back his notebook to where he had last been scribbling. Jisung had barrelled in his apartment the night before (as he usually does) and told him about the new song – _diss_ – he is working on. Maybe on another occasion, Changbin would have refused, but with the confrontation with both his mother and Seungmin so fresh on his mind, he knew he needed to do it too. So, he had been scribbling, trying to put his mind into the right headspace – he wants to do the song, yes, but he is still sane enough to know the boundaries.

“S-sorry?”

A deep, wobbly voice catches him completely off-guard, head snapping first to the door as if expecting some authoritarian figure to be waiting there only to find nothing. Then he moves his head around the room until he lands, once again, on the blonde newcomer and his heart halts on his chest. The young boy is still wearing the same pinkish blush, maybe even pinker now as he patiently waits, brow a little furrowed and tiny hand up and calling for attention. God, there is no part of this dude that is not completely adorable.

But then it catches in Changbin’s mind, that the deep voice he has just heard belongs to the fairy-like boy that is still waiting for him to react, and his brain starts to melt at the realization.

“Yeah?” Changbin is finally able to answer as he watches his brow furrowing even further and a strange emotion flash through his eyes.

“Could you erhm… could you help me?” The blonde asks, tone mortified as he avoids his eyes and his hand falls down onto of his notebook. Changbin only nods, forgetting everything about his notebook in favour of walking until he is next to the boy, ready to help. He has noticed a certain accent and how his voice sounds a bit insecure at speaking out low, so he wonder if he is dealing with a foreigner.

Changbin tries to look calm and welcoming when he is there, pretty aware of how intense and scary he can look (especially after a class as tough as this one). His eyes are quick to find big, glossy ones, looking at him expectantly and head tilted the slightest to the left, and again, Changbin has to remember that he is a teacher right now, and that this is a class for teenagers -17 years old, but teenagers still – so this weird infatuation has to stop right now.

“What’s the problem?” he finally asks, keeping his voice low to not disturb the ones who are actually working and scanning over the page. Cursive writing is mixed with neat hangul characters and cute little doodles all over and the older tries really hard not to coo.

“I’m just…” the deep voice wavers with a wave of self-consciousness and insecurity, the accent coming out even stronger with the few words he has uttered, and it rings a bell on Changbin’s head because he is sure he has heart that accent before, “Sorry, I’m used to Sunbi-noona, I do not want to sound like an idiot.”

“You won’t” the raven-haired male is quick to assure while speaking slowly to test his theory. “I am a teacher after all, aren’t I? I won’t judge you,” that seems to do the trick, because suddenly the raven-haired is met with even more stars when the boy looks up at him with a pearly smile and soft eyes.

“Ah, sorry,” the younger says again, and Changbin almost wants to reassure him again, but decides against it after seeing the look of determination that settles on his face. This dude wears all his emotions on his sleeve, and being someone so guarded himself, he kinda finds it endearing. “I just moved here to study, and back home I did not need Korean so…”

“Is English your mother tongue?” the older can’t stop himself from asking, making small talk instead of helping him may not be his original task as a teacher, but he reminds himself that he also needs to make his students feel comfortable with him – if he tries a bit harder with the pretty boy in front of him compared to the rest of the class, that’s just his issue.

“Yes,” the boy is quick to answer, eyes sparkling even further and this time Changbin cannot do anything to stop his smile.

“That’s fine, I actually teach foreigners here, so I’ll be glad to help you…” he hesitates, one eyebrow raised as he looks at the boy, his own head now tilted in question.

“Felix!” The boy, Felix, is quick to answer, almost looking scandalized that he didn’t introduce himself earlier. “My name is Felix,” Felix smiles back at him and Changbin nods.

“Alright Felix,” The dark-haired male says, just to taste his name on his tongue; it feels good; “let’s start helping you, shall we?”

-

Almost two hours later, the class finally ends, the same teenagers that had taken forever to enter the classroom before now out of it in a question of seconds. Changbin shakes his head, the headache he have been feeling forming on the back of his head is slowly dying away and he turns with a sigh to clean the blackboard. He had spent almost thirty minutes helping Felix before deciding that spending any more time would be too much, but it kept nagging him. From what the boy had told him, he is fresh on college and also he comes from Australia (of course his accent was familiar, it’s the same Chan sports even after years of living in Korea), so he doesn’t understand why is he on Sunbi’s class and not on his own – just because he is in charge of foreigners, not because he wants to keep seeing Felix, nope.

“Changbin-ssi,” he hums, still too lost on his thoughts to recognise that voice of turn around to give his full attention. “I just wanted to thank you for being so patient with me today, teacher”

The dark-haired finally turns to the source of the voice, a little startled to find Felix still in the classroom with his hands neatly folded on his front and a sweet, angelic smile on his face.

“Ah, Felix, don’t worry” it really is cute, the way Felix is thanking him for doing his job when he had been the less of his problems. “I was just thinking…”

Felix’s tilts his head further than he did before like a curious puppy, probably less self-conscious and timid now that it was only the two of them on the class. But he is ready to listen to Changbin, and that is all that matters.

“Why aren’t you in my classroom?” the older says bluntly, but Felix only burrows his brows, a sign that he is not quite following him even if he wants to, that much he has learnt today. “I mean, I told you, I teach foreigners. Sunbi is a great teacher, but I am not sure if this level or her ways around are the most comfortable for you.”

At this, Felix seems to understand, eyes growing bigger and mouth forming a little “ah” before nodding fervently. “To be honest…” the blonde begins, eyes falling down nervously again to his feet before deciding to look up “When I enrolled, my Korean was still very bad. I could barely read ‘Korean classes’. I asked a friend for help to send an e-mail, I was not aware that there is a foreigners’ class…”

Felix’s eyes look down again, peering at Changbin from under his eyelashes before looking down once more. He can feel the younger’s hesitation to talk further, to ask for help, in the way in which his hands keep fumbling now with one another. Changbin really feels the need to help him, in ways he hadn’t feel many times before.

“Want me to talk with Jimin?” he begins to ask, catching the blonde’s attention once more “I can tell her what happened and ask her to move you to my class,” Felix’s lips have started to twitch in the start of a smile, eyes slowly closing as he looks at the dark-haired and Changbin feels the need to keep talking “Also, you told me you’re in college, I’m sure you’d rather have your afternoons free and since my class are at night then you could-“ Changbin is cut off completely when he receives a handful of Aussie. The younger is hugging him by the neck, cutely jumping up and down as he giggles right on Changbin’s ear. Felix is a bit taller than himself, but he is a lot leaner, but the male is fixed to the floor, unable to move or say any other thing.

“Thank you so much Changbin-ssi!” This is the most confident and fluent he has heard Felix’s in all evening, probably an effect of his happiness and excitement. The younger finally walks back and apart from Changbin, and he can’t help but thinking that he somehow misses the feeling of his lean body against his own.

“I’lll get Jimin to e-mail you the details,” is all the older is able to muster to speak, watching as he blonde looks at his watch and looks alarmed, already moving to the door as he waves with his tiny hand, happily. “And Felix,” he calls, effectively making the Australian stop to look back at him “just call me hyung.”

“Bye, Changbin-hyung,” is the last thing Felix says, a huge smile on his lips as he disappears behind the door. And maybe, just maybe, Changbin is smiling too.

-

Chan has been caged in the studio ever since he finished his shift at the restaurant. It has been a slow day, the blonde only having to deliver five or six times and working on the kitchen cleaning dishes most of the evening. He is grateful for days like this, admittedly, because he has been able to spend most of his day thinking in ways to arrange his two main songs right now. Jisung has been working on perfecting the lyrics for _Zone **,**_ and even if Changbin have not submitted anything for Chan to revise, he knows he is working slowly but surely on it. Changbin is always slow, but his steps are secure, and when planning something like what they are doing right now, Changbin is the one putting most on the line – Chan knows, even behind the mask of complacency and content, how much Seungmin still hurts Changbin, how much he means to the dark rapper even now, the older knows about all the unfinished business and the emotional baggage they force themselves to carry. Changbin and Seungmin go further than he or Jisung can even discern, they had already been together when Chan met him. Hell, he himself met Changbin because of Seungmin, because of the Kim family. Because of Woojin.

 _Woojin_. The name still leaves a bitter after taste on his mouth, but how could he not when he has been hooked on the brown-haired, soft-looking boy ever since he first put his eyes on him. He had always wanted Woojin to be _his_ – partner, boyfriend, _soulmate._ It’s stupid, and he knows it, because he cannot force anyone to love him, because soulmates (excuse you but Chan very much believes in them) are destined by fate, not by choice. But Woojin was and still is a perfect example of everything Chan wants and loves.

And _hates_.

Because Woojin _was_ once his, but he is no longer. He can’t forget that tiny detail – it always comes to bite him in the ass: in the form of unanswered texts, in the form of Woojin leaving the same night after they sleep together, in the form of Seungmin, Woojin’s cherished brother and Changbin’s despised ex, coming to remind him they are nothing, he is _nothing_ to Woojin; in the form of Chan delivering food to a tousled stranger only to hear the ever telling high pitched laugh and sweet, calming voice of Kim Woojin.

Yeah, Chan is pretty screwed, the little incident replaying in his head over and over again, his heart breaking once again as his brain screams to _get over that pretty boy, the one who never saw a future with you, Woojin only wanted to piss off his parents for a while_. Chan knew and knows he is not what the Kims want for their sons, even less when two of the same kind reunited under his roof. All the blonde ever was, a tiny rebellious teenage fantasy. All Woojin ever was, the person Chan could not move on from. He finds it kind of stupid and mostly makes him desperate, the thought and feeling that he will never move on from the boy, even less when his number is still saved in his contact list, his dirty little secret (because he is sure Jisung and Changbin would beat some sense into him if they ever found out, but he simply _doesn’t_ want to have some sense – all he wants to have are the strong arms of Woojin around him).

Chan swears under his breath when the walls start to feel suffocating, rapidly closing in on him. It feels like he is praying for the world to stop for a second, but then his phone buzzes where it is resting next to his right hand, and the screen lights up with a notification. And, as if he had been praying and summoning him, the name in his brain materializes into the name on his phone. Chan knows he is falling again under the same trap, and at this point he is willing. But nevertheless he unlocks his phone, going into their thread of messages, stabbing himself as his eyes scan the previous conversations, lack of any emotion on those words.

**Woojin.**

Coming over?

Mom nd dad are out, Min is going out in a few.

**Chan**

It’s already almost 1 am

Where the fuck is your brother going at 1am?

**Woojin.**

Seems like he has to pick up someone from a party

Just come, please? I miss u

It amazes Chan how little he needs, how starved he feels for a person, and how easy he caves in, because as soon as those words (words that Woojin will never say out loud) are on his screen, he feels the metal dents on his skin, the trap making him bleed.

**Chan**

Alright

Be there in an hour or so, I need to finish this

There will be no answer, he knows it. Chan doesn’t even have to justify himself, because the blonde is aware that Woojin stops reading after getting confirmation from him. But it helps Chan, fuelling this fantasy of his where he and Woojin are a thing, and for so he needs to warn the older that he will be late, that he is doing stuff. Chan daydreams that one day he will get an answer after that, maybe begging him to come earlier, maybe a simple something behind his last words. But he is the last, in their conversation, in their relationship, always left with much more to say but with the words hot on his mouth.

It is thirty minutes later when Chan finally closes Cubase, the bittersweet taste on his mouth still there from his first thought of Woojin of the night. He double-checks that everything is updated and saved on both his computer and his hard disk before finally going out of the studio and on his route for the bus stop that will take him to his personal hell. The streetlights are pretty low by this hour, so of course the neon sign of the convenience store catches his attention against the almost darkness and silence, and after looking to his watch and making a few calculations on his head (and his stomach loudly growling) he decides to head in. The guy behind the counter looks bored out of his mind, and Chan recognizes him as the same guy Changbin had gone against the other night on the underground, so he nods in recognition when their eyes lock. The other nods back, slightly grinning before going back to whatever he is playing on his phone. The blonde knows this store as the back of his hand, so he chooses the shortest route down the snack aisle where he picks up some chocolate bars and a bag of some type of fried snack, then turns to the left and picks up a few condoms because the ones on his wallet have been sitting there for a while and then finally goes to the back of the store where the refrigerators stand. His mind is occupied with thoughts of the fuzzy drink he is going to buy himself, quickly listing the brands and crossing them off his mental list even quicker when his front collides with something solid, and warm, shaking him off his daydream.

“Oh! I’m sorry!” the blonde is quick to apologize, not even bothering to bend down to pick the items that have fallen from his hands and instead focusing on the stranger in front of him. He believes he has heard a thump when they collided and he is worried he might have hurt the taller man whose back, for some reason, is making a ring go off in the Australian’s mind.

The guy finally turns back, looking at the Aussie as if seeing a ghost, and Chan finally gets it. The same dude that had been with Seungmin the night on the underground, the same mole under his eye and those same pouty lips… only that now they were bleeding, his cheekbone already forming an ugly looking bruise and his eye closing a little. The other guy seems to also recognize the blonde, but when he tries to scowl he flinches with pain instead, a low whimper escaping his throat as he turns back around again.

“Are you okay?” Chan whispers, left hand hovering in the air over his shoulder as if he was dealing with a scared animal. Yes, this could be seen as fraternizing with the enemy in Jisung’s point of view, but Chan also knows that a man looking this beaten up probably needs some type of help and comfort. “What happened?”

“What do you care?” his voice sounds soft even when it is laced with disdain and hurt, and the boy looks back over his shoulder, glaring at Chan’s hand, so he puts it up in surrender. The blonde looks at him all over, eyes falling on the floor where a bit of blood is falling and staining the already dirty white tiles, and he moves into action. He shouldn’t be caring for yet another pretty brainless boy, but he sees the way he is almost shivering and feels the urge to do something. He is always been protective, unable to see anyone hurting, not even a total stranger- _enemy_. He sighs, carefully moving the guy to the side to reach for the refrigerator. He takes out two colas, damned be his diet, and a packet of the first frozen thing he finds before stepping back to pick up the stuff that had fallen earlier on the floor. Then, after masterfully putting everything into one of his arms, he reaches out for the boy, gently taking his wrist to move him. And even if his grip is gentle and soft, easy to get out off, his dark eyes are determinate when they fix on the other’s large and scared ones.

Unceremoniously, Chan lets the contents on his arm fall onto the counter, startling the poor guy behind it who proceeds to scan it while the older’s eyes wander back to the beautiful, beaten up guy beside him, whose head is now down, hair falling onto his face to cover it. The blood from his lip keeps flowing, though, so he moves back to where he knows are the tissues and shows the working guy the box before taking a few pieces out and very carefully pressing them against his mouth. Pretty boy startles a bit, but he mumbles something that the older doesn’t really catch and puts his hand up, taking the tissue on his own hand now.

The blonde pays for everything, smiling amiably at the guy behind the counter before taking the taller’s wrist into his hand again, leading him out until they find a small bench where they can sit and, if Chan is lucky, talk. Meanwhile, he entertains himself taking out the two cans of cola, opening them and offering one to the dark-haired male. It is starting to irk Chan, the fact that he does not have a name to put to this boy, so he springs into his social butterfly mode.

“I’m Chan,” he begins, smile soft and eyes softer as he eyes at the boy. He seems to repeat the same scowl, the only facial expression he has seen him sport so far, but once again he flinches with pain, pressing the tissue again against his plump, bloody red lips.

“I know,” the boy finally mumbles, the shorter having to strain a little to make out the words, and his eyes can’t help but widen at that. “We’ve known each other for a while now, but of course you wouldn’t remember me.”

The Australian frowns, trying to rack his brain and search in his memory. He is pretty sure that he would remember a face like his, but his mind is blank, and the nameless boy shakes his head, tired in the way his shoulders slump in defeat. “It’s okay, you never looked past Woojin-hyung either way.”

“I’m sorry?” the blonde asks now, puzzled and disoriented, wondering how much this guy exactly knows him and how he knows him at all. “Dude, I-,” Chan hesitates, the boy seems quite annoyed already at the fact that he can’t remember him, and he guesses he already had a night bad enough, but he has to say something, and when he does his voice is small and embarrassed of himself. “I only remember you from the other night on the underground club, I’m sorry.”

“I said it is okay,” the boy mumbles again, still refusing to let his head up so his hair still hides him. Chan kind of wants to tuck the hair away from his face so he can gauge his reactions, so they can have some sort of contact that may make things easier. “I’m Hyunjin, Seungmin’s best friend,” finally, the blonde repeats the name on his brain, and it seems to finally move something inside him, having some recollections of Seungmin calling his name on the huge house or Woojin telling him that his baby brother and Hyunjin were coming soon or going out. Yeah, they have probably met a few times, and yeah, he can see how right Hyunjin is, the thought itching him and hurting him once again – he never saw past Woojin.

“I’m sorry,” the blonde repeats, and when he senses that Hyunjin (now that he knows the name, he is going to abuse it) is about to protest, he simply adds, “I really am. You don’t have to accept my apologies but no one should be treated nor forgotten like I just did.”

It seems to do the trick, because for the first time since the convenience store, Hyunjin looks at him, lips set in a tight line but nodding nevertheless. It’s good, peaceful, like a truce has been installed between them without needing to discuss it. Chan smiles again, but his eyes fail him as they fall on the bruise, which is looking worse every minute that pass. Quickly and alarmed now, he takes out that frozen something he bought, asking permission with his eyes to put it against the other’s high cheekbone, and when the dark-haired doesn’t make a move to stop him, he presses it lightly, hearing the hiss from the boy as his pretty eyes fall shut.

“If those friends of yours saw you right now they would go berserk” Hyunjin lightly jokes, referring to Jisung and Changbin, and the blonde chuckles because he is very aware of what they might think if they saw him.

“Good thing they are not around, you look terrible enough,”

“Wow, that’s a first,” the male retorts, taking the tissue off his mouth and fixating on it. Chan is still waiting to know what exactly what happened to Hyunjin to end up looking like this, and he is doing his best to steer the conversation in that direction. “No one but Seungmin has ever told me that I look terrible.”

Chan scowls now, his mind reminding him now with the type of person he is dealing with, as if his expensive (now ruined) shirt or the shinning necklace hadn’t been indicators before. He has a mind to leave, after all they _are_ preparing an ‘attack’ of sorts toward his kind, but before his mind wanders further into those hateful places, Hyunjin sighs, getting all his attention back to his person.

“I got into a fight,” he finally says, looking back down at his hands and for the first time Chan notices the bloody knuckles and bruises already forming, telling him that this boy doesn’t have experience in fights – Chan has tended Jisung’s knuckles enough times before, he knows.

“Because you were where you weren’t supposed to be?” Chan asks, and it is true. Hyunjin has entered _their_ _zone_ again, far from all the places the kids of the Academy usually hang and get drunk, and even if the blonde loves this place to pieces, he already learnt his lesson on who to mess up with. Looking like Hyunjin does? He was asking to be beaten up, and Chan grimaces at the thought.

“Because I tried to help someone,” Hyunjin snaps, looking mad at the thought “a dude, he… look, I was here just because someone invited me to a party and-“

“Are you the one Seungmin was going to pick up?” The blonde can’t help to interfere, which only makes the dark-haired to frown further, looking at him like he had grown a second head.

“Min? What does Min have to do with anything?” he asks, confused, so the Aussie only shrugs sheepishly, “and by the way, that was rude, you don’t interrupt people having a meltdown.”

“Sorry,” the blonde quickly adds in a small voice, unable to hide a smile at Hyunjin’s sudden sulky attitude at being interrupted.

“I was at a party, and I saw someone trying to… force themselves on someone else. And I couldn’t just stand and watch it. So yes, I got beaten, but I am proud of doing it,” Hyunjin’s eyes are looking far away now, chest a bit inflated with pride, and in more ways than one with just two sentences, he has taken down a few of the prejudices Chan has been holding against him without even knowing him. And in a way, Chan also feels proud of him.

“Just be careful when playing hero,” the blonde begins, taking the frozen bag away from the pretty skin and letting the cool breeze hit it a little. “This is a dangerous place.”

The dark-haired now is looking at him, a look in his eyes that Chan can’t decipher as much as he wants to, emotions swirling on his black orbs. It’s similar to the look they had shared in the club, and it is starting to wake something in the blonde that not even himself fully understands.

Hyunjin looks conflicted, mouth pursing (and him flinching as it does) and eyes moving from Chan’s to the side before fixating on the other set of dark eyes again. The older can sense the mind running behind the pretty face, and he desperately wants to ask, but for some reason he is scared of doing so. The taller seems to make up his mind, but in doing some the same defeated slump on the line of his shoulders is back, the same he sported when Chan couldn’t recognize him, and the shorter kind of hates it.

“Don’t you have places to be?” are Hyunjin’s word after the tense silence, eyes moving to the plastic bag on the floor where Chan snacks and condoms wait. And it kind of amazes Chan, how much Hyunjin is saying with such a simple sentence – how his dark little secret has been unveiled to a total stranger. He looks down to the plastic in the same way Hyunjin is doing, the box of unopened condoms mocking him and reminding him of all his pain and journey, and for a second he looks up again to the dark haired male who is sitting beside him. It almost feels like life is giving him an option, an excuse, an emergency exit out of this building on fire. It almost feels like if he doesn’t take it, he will die with smoke filling his lungs and unable to breathe.

“Yes.”

The taller deflates further at his answer, but when Chan reaches for the bag he doesn’t take it, ignoring the handles in favour of taking out one of the chocolate bars, throwing it at Hyunjin, whose face is looking at him with pure shock, making him chuckle and the air around them starts to deflate its tension. “Yes, I gotta patch up a bloody, bruised boy I found on a convenience store at almost 2am in the morning, give him some clean clothes and send him back into the straight path because he is extremely far away from his own _habitat_.”

And for the first time in forever, it doesn’t matter to Chan that it is Woojin’s favourite cheap chocolate, or that the boy he is taking home with him won’t be there for the single purpose of being under him but to take care of him (in ways he has only taking care of Jisung and Changbin before). It doesn’t matter, because Hyunjin looks soft, shy and pliant bundled up on Chan’s black and red hoodie, sleeves covering his hands when he finishes cleaning the cuts and putting antiseptic on them, and because under the cheap yellow-ish light of Chan’s apartment he glows almost golden.

It is almost 4am when the blonde comes back home to finally rest. Hyunjin is on his way back home on the last bus and he can only hope the younger boy gets there safely. Woojin sent him a message an hour ago, telling him not to bother coming anymore, but Chan reads it just now as he lets the plastic bag on the kitchen counter and discards his own hoodie and t-shirt.

For once, he is not the last message on the conversation. For once, he doesn’t even bother on opening the conversation thread, swiping the notification left instead, because his mind is wandering back on another pretty boy who he wonders if got home safe at this hour, and how he will explain the bruises and cuts. And Chan smiles, because he feels free, he felt free, even if it was for a night.

“Thank you, Hyunjin.”

-

It is the always it has always been when Monday comes in the Hwang household. Hyunjin has been doing a good job of hiding his bruises from his parents with Yeji’s make-up; it’s not like they care that much or look up from their smart phone and laptop anyway, but in case his mom looks at him more than 3 seconds he needs to fill the pretence of the perfect son, just like Yeji follows her image of the perfect daughter, a pretty little collection of Hwang’s dolls for the press to gush over and their parents to show as any other financial achievement. His dad is out when the male gets down to the kitchen, his mother busily moving here and there while arguing with someone over the phone – at 7 a.m., mind you. Yeji is sat, mauling over her cereal and going through her feed on Instagram distractedly. It’s her who Hyunjin approaches to kiss on her forehead, her pretty sleepy eyes effectively looking up at him and a lazy smile taking over her face.

“I’m getting breakfast with Seungmin and Felix” he almost mouths, afraid of disrupting his already altered mother.

“You staying behind classes?” the girl asks, louder and bolder than he is. Hyunjin feels the piercing gaze of her mother without having to turn to look at her, and listens as the click of her heels against the polished marble grows weaker.

“Probably,” he shrugs, now visibly less tense. “Depends on what happens at class.”

“Text me?” she asks, her gaze down on her phone again. “If you stay at the Academy, I hate being here all alone. Ryujin wants to dye her hair pink and I could help,”

“Shin Ryujin? Her parents let her?”

“No,” Yeji answers back, wicked smile as she looks at her older brother again, “that’s the fun part.”

The male cannot help himself when he barks out a laugh, head shaking softly as he takes over on his way to the café where Seungmin and him usually go. The thought is funny because he won’t be the one suffering the consequences, but with parents as strict as the Shin (or the Kim, or _even his own_ ) the thought of doing stuff like dying his hair outrageous colours is almost a comedy. He himself has been tempted to dye his hair a few times, but seeing the scowls on his mother face watching people on TV or the straight out insults his father threw at them was enough to keep it out of his mind. _If any of you were to appear with such thing on your heads… everyone would mock us_ , his mother had added, cold eyes fixing on her two children, and it amazed Hyunjin that such a distant creature was called “mom”.

He could never do such thing, maybe get his hair a few tones lighter under the supervision of his mother –but, purple streaks as the one he had once witnessed with pure horror on Changbin’s hair or the blue that that Han rat had been sporting the first time they met were instantly crossed off his mind. Even the fried, light blonde locks of Bang Chan are somehow unreachable – _in more ways than one_ , the male adds on his own head. It amazes Hyunjin, how in a way or another his brain always finds a way to end up on the same point – that Australian boy he had met through his best friend years ago, with lazy eyes, a dimpled smile and eyes only for the older Kim.

Hyunjin cannot lie, at least not to himself and when it involves Chan. It hurt, when the older couldn’t recognize him the other night, nor any of the other nights for that matter. He has always been invisible to him, a ghost on the background he didn’t even itch to pursue, but the younger had learned to observe from his frozen spot all those years, yearning for more but obscured by the towering shadow of Woojin. Maybe that’s why Hyunjin likes Chan so much, because he is so used to being recognized, hearing the whispers as he passes about how pretty, beautiful, _breath-taking_ even he is, that someone ignoring his good looks, his whole persona, sent some kind of signal on his brain and on his heart.

At it isn’t like Hyunjin doesn’t know Chan. He knows him, a bit, enough, through passing moments and the stories Seungmin used to tell him from his brother, about how nice, dedicated and passionate the older is, how different from everyone they know in every sense of the word, even different from _Changbin_ – but Changbin is a case of study he would rather not stir up, his own set of secrets that for some reason, everyone turns a blind eye from. Even _Seungmin_ , even after their endless, chaotic quarrels, even with that need the ex-couple has of destroying the other.

Chan is a mystery, someone Hyunjin cannot fully grasp, like he isn’t even real to begin with and it itches and wakes something inside of Hyunjin. But the younger had learnt just how _real_ the blonde is the other night.

The younger had not wanted to even be there, less to cross paths with his crush from so many years when he felt so utterly and completely devastated, ruined, _ugly_. He had always being praised for his good looks, his elegance, his figure, and at some point it had become the one thing he felt the most confident about himself, whilst also being the thing the hates the most. The sole concept of being “ugly” is scary, a black cape full of monster whispering how he is _nothing_ without a pretty face. _Nothing but a pretty boy_.

He had wanted to run the moment he had recognised his soft, concerned voice, and his touch on his naked wrist had burned on the skin, an indecipherable tattoo of warmth that still wakes fireworks when he passes his fingers over it. He had an idea where the older was going to go and he had wanted to leave because crying over something so unreachable seemed so pathetic – Chan would end up with Woojin, _again_ , nothing but a reminder that Hyunjin could still not be seen.

Only, Chan _had seen him._ Chan had been just the warmth he needed on a cold night, tending to his wounds and making everything on his hands to make the smile on Hyunjin’s busted lips make an appearance throughout the night.

Chan had not let him alone even knowing he was somehow an enemy for his two best friends. Chan had put ice over his bruises and tissues over his blood. Chan had chosen him over _another._ Chan had walked him down to his apartment, let him in and made him feel at home with a total stranger. Chan had even give him some of his own clothes just so the younger wouldn’t walk around looking like a murder scene. The hoodie had been big on Hyunjin’s frame although being taller than the older, and it smelled like peaches and vanilla and if Chan smelt like that the younger would happily drown on his scent.

It probably meant nothing for the older, just a kind gesture for someone in need, but it had let the dark-haired young boy dream for once, with a life where he would hide in Chan’s dark clothing and rest with him on days when going back home feel like too much. The hoodie is still resting on Hyunjin’s dresser, neatly folded and apart from his own clothes not to lose the sweet scent. Hyunjin wants to pay Chan back, give him his hoodie and maybe spend another few minutes talking with him, because if that’s all he gets then damned be his sleep, because there is this feeling he can’t shake off him every time they get to lock eyes – on a badly lit club, on a bench under the stars.

So, with a determined smile and his head held up, the dancer makes his mind – he is going to see the older again, give his hoodie back and possibly make some more amiable talk, even if it means going against his best friend’s back and into dangerous, enemy’s _zone_.


	2. shame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist:  
> 5SOS - No shame  
> Cavetown - Boys will be bugs  
> Cavetown - Lemon boy  
> Flatsound - You wrote "dont forget" in your arm
> 
> -
> 
> this was has not been beta read yet, so i will probably edit a bit tomorrow, but i do hope you enjoy it. more notes at the end :)

2.

The high, white walls reflect the light as Hyunjin saunters into the building. He holds the duffel bag close to his chest while his other hand is busy going down on the endless new posts from his Instagram feed. There is people he doesn’t even remember ever meeting, but he still likes the pictures, doing as much as leaving some random emoji on some of the pictures. It’s all part of the bigger scheme, says his mother always. Being sociable and being on everyone’s minds constantly – the boy doubts he even needs to keep doing it, but after the very long, very stern call they had received from the Shin family after Yeji had helped Ryujin dye her hair, Hyunjin has to be extra complacent.

His body moves on its own accord, taking him to the studio Felix texted him earlier in the morning, ready to spend the evening away from his empty home. When he finally reaches the door he looks up, looking at his text thread with the younger Australian to check he is in the correct place before entering. A soft, pop tune greets him, Felix and Minho already on the room stretching in silence.

“Hey,” the taller says with a soft smile, making the two boys look up from their warm up. The oldest of the three simply returns his smile, while Felix bounces up to Hyunjin, clinging to him as a form of greeting. “Sorry for taking so long, lunch with Seungminnie always stretches out.”

“It’s fine,” the blonde replies as he steps back onto his earlier position.

“With the amount of time you two spend together, anyone would say you’re dating,” Minho comments, the sly smile on his lips betraying his intentions.

“Ew,” Hyunjin grimaces, a shiver running up and down his spine at the thought of dating his best friend since diapers. “Not in a million years.”

“Yeah, you seem to be into blondes anyway,” the reply takes the taller for surprise, eyes widening and locking with Minho knowing ones through the mirror. He ignores the dumbfounded expression on Felix’s face as he studies the oldest, trying to determine exactly how much he knows and how.

“You submitted like a kicked puppy,” he replies, as if he can read the black haired's mind.

“Guys, I’m lost.”

“Minho-hyung is being dumb, Felix, nothing more. Shall we start?”

The taller finally decides to move on, but the thought and knowledge that his feelings may be on the open for someone else other than himself unsettles him as he takes off his coat and lets it fall unceremoniously on the floor next to his bag. In all the years he has spent pinning no one has ever come close to being aware of what is inside his mind, and that might be the reason why he has always felt secure inside his mind. But, only one person knowing about his secret is enough to tear down the walls he has built around himself, the hoodie inside his duffel bag suddenly bright like a beacon of light calling to be found. But, thankfully, Felix simply shrugs, happy at the prospect of dancing the hours away with his friends, and Hyunjin is happy too, because dancing is all he needs to forget about the world outside the four walls of the studio.

Ever since he started attending the Academy he has been with Minho and Felix. The trio came together in a task where the teachers grouped them up because most students didn’t know each other, and contrary to most of those groups, the three dancers fell in perfect harmony. The older, who recently dyed his hair electric blue in a fashion that would scandalized Hyunjin’s parents, was undoubtly the most talented dancer Hyunjin has ever seen. He falls into rhythm and step in a question of seconds, his moves sharp and never out of place. Minho is also mysterious, both in and out of dancing, because there are many things the oldest keeps to himself and to this day Hyunjin still hasn’t figured out which branch of Lee’s he is exactly from, or why, although he is two years older than them, is he on the same class as them. Felix, the petite blonde, is all grace with fluid motions. He still lacks a bit in technique in comparison with other dancers, but his effort and confidence on himself is more than enough to cover for it. But then, that confidence vanishes when Felix stops dancing, the youngest still fumbling around his words and shyly refusing to speak in front of some people – specifically the assholes who mocked him when he kept messing up his introduction to the class, and who Hyunjin had made a point of pushing when they had to get up and into position. Felix had smiled at him with softness on his smile then for the very first time, and Hyunjin has been making sure that the younger is safe and sound ever since. He even helped him enroll into extra classes because he was so adamant on improving his Korean.

Hyunjin is… Hyunjin. He likes to think of himself as a good dancer, many have praised his elegance and fierceness when dancing. He has to thank his parents and his genes on the daily, because his long limbs make every move he perfects look ten times better. See, Hyunjin has hear many things growing up, about his physique, his face or his good looks in general, but all of those became bitter on his eyes as he grew older. Yes, a highly self-conscious teenager Hyunjin was incredibly thankful for the ego boost he would receive every time he was introduced, or the hushed whispers that would follow him everywhere. But, somewhere along the years, the hushed whispers became dark-filled mocks, the “he is so good looking” turning into “he is just a pretty face”, “he is just here for his face” and every other humiliating word that could come around his looks. So Hyunjin worked. He found something he had passion for and worked until he would fall and was unable to get up. He still does. Dancing becoming his second way of breathing, suffocating when he goes more than a day without entering the studio. He works, hard and painful, because beautiful things come out of his work, but above all, because he wants to prove himself as deserving – as something else apart from the money from his parents or the face he was born with.

“Hyunjin!” Minho screams over the loud music, startling the dark haired male from his reverie. “Position, now,” the oldest says, and he scrambles to his place slightly behind Felix as the blue haired male counts again. Hyunjin is lucky, because he found two amazing dancers who share the same exact passion he does, because they look at him as a dancer, and not as a Hwang.

Hyunjin mimics his hyung, lowering his cap as Minho lowered his bucker hat, and the three fall into beat.

-

The Kim family has one tradition – they always get together every Saturday to eat together. It is something Seungmin’s mom has always insisted on doing, since Woojin was really small to this day, when between the four members barely three words are exchanged before falling into silence. But, still, it gives them that sense of being a family, of being closer than they actually are, and for a few hours Seungmin can pretend he is just another boy his age and not bother too much about the front he has to keep in front of the rest of the Academy, the press, the world. Sometimes, Hyunjin joins them, either alone or with the rest of his family. In the past, when Changbin and he were still an item, Changbin would be sitting to his right every Saturday, the heavy weight of his hand settled on Seungmin’s thin thigh, his warmth seeping through his clothes and tingling his skin.

Changbin always told him those moments were the most relaxed he had seen him in front of other people. Sometimes, Seungmin still misses the warmth of his company next to him.

For a bigger sense of normalcy, the service is not around on Saturdays, so Seungmin is occupied preparing the table as his mother cooks. His father is discussing something about work on his studio, and Woojin is not home yet – he went out the night before, Seungmin has an inkling to where but he keeps his mouth shut.

“Why is Hyunjin not coming today?” his mother asks from her place on the stove, pink apron contrasting hilariously with her refined designer clothes.

“Yeji and him are being held a little bit tighter,” replies Seungmin as he takes the plates out, making sure he has four of the same design. “Yeji helped Shin Ryujin dye her hair pink.”

His mother shakes her head at this, the thought of a high class girl such a Ryujin dying her hair like that so offending and disgraceful that an ugly scowl is placed on her nude lips. “That’s how they start,” she mumbles, and Seungmin’s heart begins to quicken at the prospect of what’s to come next.

“Mom,” he tries, eyebrows furrowing and shoulders tense as he stills his movements.

“First they dye their hair outrageously,” she keeps going, her eyes on whatever mix she is stirring on the pot, but her mind distant and set onto dyed-fry curls.

“Mom,” he says again. When Woojin used to be around more, she always held back, forced smiles and saccharine sweet words that she didn’t really feel, but she would do anything to keep the older content. With Seungmin, however, she lets her ugliest side out, probably regretting not having influenced Woojin like this, or not doing it to Seungmin way earlier.

“Just like that… disgrace of a boyfriend your brother used to have,” the words hit the brown-haired guy as is they had been thrown at him instead, and he has to duck his head lower, biting his lip not to lash at his mother. “I can’t believe we let such a low life on our table…”

Seungmin shakes his head now, hands gripping onto the porcelain in hopes it breaks and cuts his hands, just so his mom shuts up. “Chan-hyung wasn’t-“

“Look at what he did to the poor Seo’s son,” Seungmin feels positively sick at her words. It’s not _Changbin_ anymore, it’s _the Seo’s son_ , as if Changbin wasn’t real, as if he wasn’t anything more than his surname. But, aren’t all of them the same?

“Changbin,” he begins, with gritted teeth, but once again his mother decides that whatever he is going to say is not worth listening and she keeps going instead.

“That boy… the disgrace he is bringing into his family by running away. I give him a few years before he comes back like a street dog, begging for money for all the alcohol and drugs they must be do-“

Silence falls for the first time since she started talking, both in the room and in Seungmin’s head. But only after the loud sound of the porcelain breaking against the hard marble floor. His mother whips around, startled at the sound, and finally faces her son. Seungmin is looking down, visibly shaking with anger and fists white. His mother gapes like a fish, but Seungmin doesn’t even look up, focused on his breathing and the rushed steps he can hear before he hears the voice of his older brother calling.

“What the…” Woojin is close to cursing, and in any other instance their mom would have scolded him for using such vocabulary, but this time she is too shocked, the spoon she was using still in her hand. Woojin looks around, first at his younger brother, then at the plate, and finally at his mother before sighing, shaking his head softly.

“Minnie,” he whispers, but the kitchen is silent except for the bubbling noises from the pot. Woojin’s hands are big and warmth, but it isn’t the warmth he is longing for. “Come on, I will clean it up, why don’t you go to the living room?”

Seungmin simply nods weakly, looking from behind his bangs to his brother to thank him silently, and for the first time since the whole ordeal started he feels at ease, because Woojin is nothing but calmness. He lets the older check his hands first, and after checking he didn’t cut himself, he pats him before going deeper into the kitchen. The younger is not even that far from the door when he starts to hear the heated, hushed whispers.

“Don’t you ever try to get that shit into his head again,” Woojin says, but it is so different from what he is used from the older that he wouldn’t have believed it is him if he hadn’t seen him with his very two eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking abou-“

“Don’t play dumb, mom” the older cuts her. “You have nothing but hate in your heart, and I already made peace about it. But I won’t let you turn Seungmin into you.”

“You are barely here anyways, what gives you the right to boss me about how I raise my son?”

“You don’t hurt me, mom,” Seungmin lets his back hit the wall, new information making his head ache. “You know I’m only around because of Seungmin, because he is the one person I care about the most in this world. That gives me _the right_ , because I’m the only person in this house who actually cares about him.”

“You are a disgrace” his mother spits, voice full of venom, but he only hears the melodious laugh from his brother, and for some reason, it makes Seungmin smile.

“Yes, and I love being one.”

-

Seungmin has his eyes closed, his breaths coming out in sync with the soft strumming of Woojin’s guitar. The older is sat by the window of his room, the light coming in and bathing him in a soft golden hue as he strums slowly, humming to a song the younger thinks can recognize. After the kitchen incident, lunch has gone by in a suffocating silence and the two brothers fled the scene as soon as they let their plates on the sink, Woojin saying he has to go over some singing lessons with Seungmin as an excuse for his father.

The events reply slowly in Seungmin’s mind, but he still keeps getting hocked on that conversation he wasn’t supposed to hear, the way their mother has referred as Seungmin as _her son_ as if he was the only one she had birthed, how icy and venomous her tone had turned when she had found herself alone with his brother. It’s too much, he starts to realize, too many things that have been hidden from him and it makes him bitter – but he also thinks about Woojin’s words, about how he talked about the _hate_ in his mother heart, and he wonders exactly how much of the hate he himself feels is his and how much of it has been implanted by his mom. It’s a shameful thought, being so easily fooled and manipulated.

“Since when have you been in bad terms with mom?” the younger asks without opening his eyes, breaking the careful silence between the two. The older Kim keeps strumming his guitar.

“Mmm…” the older hums, “a year and a half? Maybe a bit more”

“That’s when you and Chan broke up,” Seungmin finally opens his eyes, but now they are fixated on the ceiling of his brother’s room.

“Well, mom and dad were definitely one of the reasons we broke up,” now it’s Seungmin’s turn to hum, mind going back to his brother’s relationship, and finding himself on the club’s altercation with his own ex, just one more of many time they have found each other only to tear each other down. And, every time, Seungmin leaves with a terrible taste in his mouth and shame making him shake from anger at his own actions, but he somehow can’t stop himself, something primal waking up inside.

“Do you regret it?” _breaking up with Chan_ , he means, but he doesn’t dare to say it out loud. Woojin finally stops strumming his guitar, and that makes the younger look at his figure on the window. The older Kim’s eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth is set on a thin, tight line.

“It’s more complicated than regret,” he finally says, now turning to his little brother, “Chan and I were much more complicated than it looked on the outside. We still are,” Seungmin tilts his head, confusion clear in his face and making the older laugh at how cute he looks. “Chan and I still meet sometimes, I’m not exactly proud of our terms, but… yeah,” Woojin’s brother is laced with the same shame Seungmin finds in his mind when he thinks of his actual relationship with Changbin. He doesn’t know exactly how they work now, but however way it is enough to make his perfect older brother, Kim Woojin, ashamed of himself – but who is he to judge when he is the same, probably worse.

“I keep seeking Binnie,” he adds in a small voice, full of sympathy and trying to make his brother feel better. “We just… fight. I just don’t understand him anymore, Wooj”

“Maybe you don’t have to understand him, Minnie,” Woojin gets closer, sitting on the space next to him.

“He could have everything, he just threw it all away…”

“Minnie… to be honest, what Changbin is doing… it’s kind of amazing, in my opinion,” his brother begins again, a mirror of Seungmin’s previews position as he looks at his own ceiling. “He could have everything, but he chose to have it his way. He doesn’t like his parents, and he doesn’t want his parents’ money.”

Seungmin gnaws on his bottom lip, intently listening to his brother’s words as he plays with the hem of his blue shirt.

“In more ways than one… he’s way freer than any of us. That’s one of the things I always loved about Chan – his freedom.”

“Do you think that being with him, you were stopping him from being free?”

“I think our worlds were too different, I was absolutely not seeing things his way. Chan and I always fought about money, and I never understood why he wouldn’t take my money either. I could have gotten him in the Academy with me… we broke up when I came at him with an acceptance letter with his name on it.”

Seungmin gasps, turning back to look at his brother because he never knew the real reason why their relationship ended. It happened too fast, one day they were everyone’s favourite lovebirds, and the next each was on their own path. The younger never understood, and he always believed the blonde had simply used his brother to get what he wanted until the end. He always thought Chan had left once he had gotten Changbin on board – or maybe that was what his bitter heart had wanted to be real, because the truth would have hurt too much to accept.

“Really?”

“Then, a few months later, I understood,” the older continues, ignoring Seungmin’s question. “I always had money so easily, I never really treasured its value. When I got the letter I thought it would be a nice surprise, but it was actually an insult to him – a reminder of everything we have and he doesn’t.”

“But Changbin _is_ like us, his family is ridiculously rich,” the younger huffs in reply.

“Maybe Changbin understood before we even could think about it, Minnie.”

Seungmin falls silent, thinking of his ex and his relationship, thinking about the development of his friendship with Chan and his friendship with Jisung, and maybe that was it – Changbin was always more open-minded, more accepting. Maybe Woojin is right, and Changbin had seen both sides of the coin and choose the one he wanted to follow instead of following the prefabricated path his family offered.

“Maybe,” he says, but if Seungmin is sure about one thing is that Changbin is ‘freer’ than them. Changbin, Jisung and Chan, the three of them are free, in their own twisted and painful way.

-

Felix is running late to Korean class – _again._ In fact, Felix has been running late to every place since the morning. He had gotten up with a startle, his phone ringing loudly with a bright girlgroup song signalling an incoming call. Seungmin, the ever loving and sweet boy (at least with Felix, okay?), calling him worried because he had not been there at their weekly breakfast date. Only then had Felix looked at the hour, cursing loudly in English when he had seen the bold, red numbers that read almost 9 a.m. With a quick, rushed apologie to the boy on the phone he hung up, rushing around his apartment as he dressed himself and made a mental note not to play Fortnite with his Australian friends on school nights ever again.

Evidently, Felix arrived to class so indignantly late that the teacher did not allow him in, scolding him and reminding him that if he wanted to achieve success punctuality is one of the keys – _imagine this had been a huge audition_ , he had said, loud enough for everyone inside the class to hear, _you wouldn’t even have had a chance to get in, Lee_.

Felix mood has been sour ever since, and that is a lot to say for someone so positive and bright as he is – but he had seen some of his classmates snicker and whisper about him, once again. Then, on the evening, he had rushed to the studio, believing Hyunjin, Minho-hyung and he had rented it for the evening, only to find the room already filled with some of his not so amicable classmates.

And now, Felix is running again, thankful for the years of dancing giving him so much stamina. The events of the day replay on his mind and he is scared of being scolded twice for the same thing – and even more so when he realizes this is not the first time he is going to be late to Chagbin-hyung’s class. The older boy has been nice enough to accept him into his class without batting an eye, even dealing with all the paperwork and behind the scenes business himself, and now Felix is late again because as much as he tries he cannot fully adjust to this country’s hectic schedule.

The blonde does not want to seem like a brat, or not thankful enough for all the work his hyung keeps putting on him, not when the two hour classes are the highlights of his weeks since he started – not that he would never actually tell Changbin that.

When he finally finds himself in front of the door to the classroom Felix is breathless and half an hour late. He contemplates turning back, his chest going up and down, as he listens to the raspy voice giving lessons inside. He feels bad for being so late, and entering now would disturb the class – even if the people inside are really nice and simply smile at him every time he scurries inside (especially a dark-haired boy in front of the class). But also, he has been running and not entering would mean he has lost a good deal of time he simply cannot get back, and the thought of wasted time makes him anxious.

“Felix, come in,” the raspy voice directs at him way closer than before and he jumps, stopping his fidgeting and now facing the smile he has grown acquaintances with in the last few weeks. The blonde blushes furiously, the feeling of his heated cheeks giving him away as he nods, throwing his own little, shy smile towards the older before rushing to his usual place next to a thirty something woman who sometimes buys him coffee.

The young Australian absolutely loves his spot on the classroom, because when the sun starts to set the light coming through the window engulf Changbin in a kind of ethereal glow that leaves the smaller breathless – okay, yes, Felix may be sporting a tiny, minuscule crush on his teacher. But how could he not when Changbin is all softness, sweet smiles and patience even when Felix’s messes up the simplest of sentences. He just makes Felix feel… _warm_ , and being away from home that is a feeling he has been missing so far.

With a slight shake of his head, the blonde decides to take out his things and try to get something done – he already lost half an hour, he can’t afford more lost time on his account, even if said time would be wasted fantasizing about holding certain boy’s hand with the same glow on their backs.

-

“Felix, can you wait?” Changbin calls him as everyone else starts to shuffle out of the classroom, animatedly talking among themselves. Felix is really grateful he was changed into this group, where even though people are older, they make sure to include the Australian on every conversation and activity they organize (he has already have lunch with everyone, and it was an exquisite time he can’t wait to repeat).

Felix says a final goodbye to Martha, thanking her once again for the birthday cookies (she brought homemade cookies! Because it’s her birthday!), before turning back to his teacher, blinding smile reaching up to his eyes. He thinks his brain must be still too caught on its fantasies because he swears he sees Changbin’s eyes flicker with fondness when their eyes meet, so he quickly disregards the thought.

“Yes, hyung?” he asks, coming closer to him, hands on his backpack straps.

“I’ve noticed that you’ve been coming late almost every single day…” the older begins, eyes full of worry and the anxiety of being scolded once again starts to settle within the younger, who starts to fidget in place, gnawing on his lip.

“Please don’t scold me hyung, I’m not doing it on purpose I swear,” rushes out of his pink lips before he can even think of stopping himself. He truly doesn’t believe he can get through a scolding from who is becoming one of his favourite people on this country. But before he can worry any further the melodic laugh of Changbin fills his ears, instantly making him relax into his place – Felix swears he could listen to him laugh for hours.

“I wasn’t planning on scolding you, Lix,” the nickname sounds heavenly on his raspy voice, and Felix bits his lip with intention now, the blush creeping its way back onto his cheeks.

“Then?”

“Well, I’m worried these classes might interfere with your academic life,” the older lifts a hand, reading the blonde that was about to interrupt him, to make him wait and listen. “I was thinking, I could give you private lessons or something?”

Changbin lets Felix once again gaping like a fish, not only because of the proposition, but because the older, more intimidating had sounded so small and shy telling him that Felix’s brain couldn’t catch with the fact that this is _his_ hyung, the one he finds so cool and mysterious, and not a shy teenager.

“Wouldn’t that be a bother to you, though?” Felix finally asks, head tilted to one side.

“It doesn’t have to,” the dark-haired shrugs, as if it wasn’t much of a deal. “We could work through the time and place together. I could give you my number and we could meet in the middle?”

“Would you really, hyung? For me?” The blonde now asks, barely containing his excitement at the proposition from his hyung and waiting for the final confirmation. He can lie to everyone but himself: the prospect of having his crush’s number makes him as giddy as if he was 14 once again.

“I mean, it would be a little bit more expensive because private lessons are more expensive, obviously, but I wouldn’t mind at all, my schedule is pretty much set and the other things I d-“

Before the older can keep on going rambling and fidgeting nervously on his spot, his arms are full with a very bright, very giddy blonde Australian (and it isn’t Chan for once), cutting his rambling as his slender arms find home on his neck. They actually _spin_ like in the movies, because if Changbin did not spin the two would be now on the floor, but still, it also makes Changbin blush. Felix laughs on his ear before getting away from the older with hands on his shoulders.

“Hyung you’re the best!” he almost screams, his Korean once again perfect. Has Felix mentioned how secure Changbin makes him feel? Yeah, all his shame at speaking the difficult language gone when it’s just the two of them.

“I’m-I’m just doing m-my work, Felix,” the dark-haired said, detangling himself from the younger and Felix has to physically stop himself from whining when his strong arms leave his lithe body. But before he can sulk too much at not being hugged, he is quickly moving to Changbin’s desk, taking one of his post-its and a black pen to messily scribble his number.

“Here, hyung!” he exclaims once again, taking the post-it and pushing against Changbin’s firm chest in a sudden act of boldness he attributes to the rush of happiness and excitement he is feeling. “I gotta go, but make sure to message me, okay?” The dancer moves to the door as his braveness begins to fade away, the ghost of Changbin’s arms still warm on his skin even through the layers of clothes. “Thank you, bye!”

When he closes the door, Changbin is still on the same spot he left him, a small “Goodbye Felix” heard through the door while Felix all but skips giddily on his way to the subway.

-

The lights flash one second, disappearing the next, as Jisung moves from the mass of sweaty bodies in the centre of the dance floor towards the bar. It’s just one of those nights, when Jisung gets too into his own head and he needs to fly on his own. He has been gone from Chan’s apartment for almost three hours now, and judging by the amount of incoming calls he has declined so far, he is sure the oldest has already informed Changbin of his little night time adventure. The scolding is already inevitable, so what’s the harm in having a bit more booze and fun before having to hibernate the next two days – good thing he had already secured the next two days free of work.

He is really close to the bar, his mind is a bit fuzzy and the colourful lights do not help him clear his head. The music is loud, too loud – but that’s what he needs, something louder than his own head, something that drowns him in something that isn’t anxiety. There is also the pleasant buzz of the alcohol kicking in, making the brunette feel lighter, but he needs more.

But, of course, someone has to bump into him and dump all of their drink on him, his mind only really realising what has happened when the cold and wet start to soak through his shirt, colliding with his skin. The previous fuzziness starts to melt into a red screen, the simple thought of his night being stopped like this when he needs it so much making the anger arise on him. His hands are already working on their own, moving to fist the shirt of the guy he identifies as his attacker while he grits his teeth. Maybe it’s a good thing Chan already noticed his absence, because Jisung is already thinking of the patching up he is going to need.

The brunette snarls as his fist reels back, taking momentum and pushing through the air. His eyes are fixed on the scared guy in his hold, and he just waits – for the crash, the pain, the crack noise of bone against bone. He almost smirks.

But nothing happens.

Because in the haste of the moment, with his fuzzy, tipsy mind focusing solely on his prey, Jisung didn’t notice someone quickly approaching (but neither did he notice the apologies, the screams or the girls scrambling away from the fight). And that someone is holding his arm back with just a hand, face hard and stare even harder as he seizes Jisung up and down. Jisung narrows his eyes, trying to focus to recognize this person because Chan and Changbin have never stopped him like that, but the only thing the tipsy boy can recognize is that this guy must work at the club – and that he is going to kick him out for starting a fight. Great.

“C’mon, tiger,” says the voice finally, releasing his grip on Jisung’s hand and signalling to follow him. His voice is higher and more velvety than what Jisung expected from someone working on a night club. He is kind of stupefied, the event playing too fast on his mind.

Club guy sighs, turning back to Jisung with a gentle smile, before proceeding to push him softly to the back door. Once there, instead of going back inside and closing the door on him, he leans on the brick wall, studying the brunette without saying a word. Now, in the pale light of the moon, Jisung can make out the face of the guy and it strucks him just how beautiful this stranger is.

He has a nice bone structure with high, elegant cheekbones. His lips are soft-looking and pillowy, in one of the loveliest shades of pink Jisung has had the pleasure of seeing on his short life. His nose is, quite literally, the most perfect nose the brunette has ever seen – high, straight and just with the perfect height and length. And, oh, he also has a mole right on top of one of his nostrils. Cute. His hair is dyed a perfect midnight blue, and it keeps falling onto his _eyes_.

His eyes are a wonder on its own. They are big and round, but they also resemble those of a cat somehow. The dark pools are filled with millions of little specks of stardust that shine immensely, and they are protected but hundreds of long, kinda curly eyelashes.

Yeah, Jisung is sure he has never seen anyone this perfect – nor has he ever been any gayer.

“Do you wanna puke?” Says the boy after what feels like an eternity in silence, both lost in their own studying of the other.

“I’m not drunk,” Jisung grumbles as he lets his own back hit the brick wall behind him, mirroring the blue-haired right in front of him. “Shouldn’t you go back in?”

“Nah,” he begins, reaching behind to pull out a small box from his back pocket. He takes out a slim cigarette and a lighter, taking the stick to his mouth. “I will use this as my break, if you don’t mind.”

“You kinda stopped me from being an asshole there, I guess I owe it to you.”

Club guy only nods, eyes now looking at the sky as the smoke exits his mouth. His whole body seems to relax, melting a little bit against the wall. Jisung knows he has been staring for a while now, but he can’t seem to stop. He is intrigued, and as his mind keeps clearing up thanks to the cold air he becomes more intrigued. Club guy does a good job of ignoring his intense stare, even if the brunette catches his eyes wandering down once to briefly lock with his.

“Minho,” the guys speaks again after taking another drag. “My names is Minho.”

“Oh,” Jisung says, completely taken aback. “I’m Jisung.” Minho just nods again, still focused on the night sky and all of its secrets. For once, Jisung isn’t on the spotlight, running, frantic, craving more and moving to steel away from the anxious thoughts. He is calm and serene, happy to be on the second line. It’s a foreign feeling, but not an unwelcomed one.

“Do you have anger issues, Jisung?” The brunette ponders silently, his own eyes falling from Minho’s face the floor. He wouldn’t call it anger issues per se, but more like some sort of stress relief. He just shrugs, because even if Minho is the most perfect human being he still is a stranger.

“Everyone deals with it their own way,” Jisung finally says. “I fight, you smoke.” Minho shrugs then too, his gaze finally dropping.

“There are only so many fights you can win, though.”

“Yeah, but I can still win.”

Minho laughs, loud and high pitched and Jisung feels the same type of proud he feels when he is onstage and he has won another battle. He likes it, a lot.

“You know, you have quite the reputation,” The blue-haired throws his cigarette away, eyes back to lock on Jisung as they speak. “They warned me about a brunette, short boy that resembles a squirrel picking fights. The thought made me laugh before, but you really do resemble a squirrel.”

The brunette feels his cheeks heat up, and he is grateful for the poor lighting now because it would be even more embarrassing to be seen. But Jisung is not only ashamed of the small comment from Minho, but, for the first time, he feels ashamed of having such reputation – he is so much more, he knows it, he is proud of it. So why did he let himself be turn into a walking fight?

“Squirrels can be dangerous,” the brunette mumbles.

“Hey, can you smile for me?” the blue-haired suddenly says, making Jisung frown in confusion. “C’mon, I have a theory!”

He urges the brunette in a child-like manner and it is just so out of place but somehow so endearing, Jisung can’t help but to smile a bit.

“There!” Minho exclaims, and he genuinely beams at him for some reason. “I think you look more like a quokka,” the blue-haired declares.

Jisung frowns again, confusion on his face clear as a day at the strange word. He doesn’t know if he should be feeling insulted or not, but before he can open his mouth to ask, he hears his name being called from the end of the alley that guides to the main street. He turns a bit, startled, and Minho simply chuckles again.

“And that’s my cue to leave,” are the last words Minho say before turning his body completely and entering the same door through which they had left a while ago. There is no goodbye exchanged between the two, and it truly doesn’t feel like they need one, but Jisung’s eyes are still fixed on the door, mouth slightly agape, and he wonders, for the first time, if this has all been made up in his mind, if Minho is even real.

“Jisung!” Chan exclaims as he closes on him, quickly checking his body for any visible injuries alongside Changbin. When they both find none, there is confusion on their faces.

“They told us you were kicked out because of a fight, but you are okay?” Changbin explains when Jisung blinks, finally recognizing the two males as his best friends. He nods slowly to Changbin before turning to the eldest of the three.

“Hyung, what’s a quokka?” He asks.

“Okay, he is worse than I thought.”

But, later that night, when Jisung is safely tucked in and scrolling through his feed in youtube, the strange word pops up on his mind. And he blushes furiously now, almost kicking the sheets, when his phone shows a video of a little, round, cute, friendly furry creature. _The happiest animal on earth_ , they called it.

Tonight, Jisung is a bit happier.

-

Maybe Hyunjin should have thought it better this time around. Maybe he shouldn’t have come at all, having as he had nothing for certain. But it’s too late now as he finds himself in the middle of the convenience store, fidgeting with the hoodie on his hands as he looks around. Obviously, apart from the clerk there is no one at the store – who on his right mind would, seeing it’s almost 3 am? But the young boy had been decided to give the hoodie back to Chan and establish communication again, this time around without him having to drip blood to do so.

But also, nothing really assured Hyunjin he would be meeting Chan at the store at 3 am. The last time had been a coincidence, and he keeps using that to comfort and excuse himself – if he doesn’t find Chan tonight, the world is telling him to move on with a precious gift. He told his parents he would be over at Seungmin’s tonight, and seeing how he has been well behaved, especially when compared with Yeji’s little escapades, lying once wouldn’t be too bad on his account, even less if no one caught up on his lie. Hyunjin had not planned very much ahead apart from getting out of the house. He has been over at Seungmin’s for a while, before excusing himself with a silly excuse (and in consequence also lying to Seungmin) before taking a bus and ending here.

The thing is, what is he going to do if he doesn’t find Chan? And what is he going to do even if he finds him? He cannot expect to spend the night with him on their second meeting, but again, Hyunjin had definitely not think this through. Or, at least, not hard enough. This time around, though, his clothes do not scream about his social status to everyone who sees him 300 metres away, so that’s something good.

Hyunjin sighs, looking around once more before his stomach rumbles. It’s been a while since he ate dinner, but he isn’t sure what to eat because really, the selection is wide and he isn’t even sure what he is craving or what would be actually good, the brand names completely foreign. He squats down when he spots a brand of noodles he believes he has seen before with Felix, reading slowly the ingredients list and the preparation process when he spots another pack of noodles that catches his attention, also reading it slowly and with care.

“The red ones are far better,” the sudden proximity of the voice startles him so much that he screams, landing on his butt before whining loudly about it. The same voice turns now into a loud, happy laugh, and that’s all the raven haired needs to freeze completely. Because he just embarrassed himself massively in front of his crush.

“You okay?” Asks Chan once he stops laughing, also squatting down to be at eye level with the younger, who is petulantly pouting while glaring at Chan, looking as menacing as a new-born puppy, he is sure.

“…Yeah,” he finally says, succumbing at the soft, happy look on Chan’s eyes. It’s very different from anything he has ever seen from the older, or at least for a while, and Hyunjin is just so curious as to why, dying to know what made him so happy, and ready to share his happiness. But he bites his tongue, ignoring Chan’s helping hand and getting up on his own instead.

“What are you even doing here?” The blonde asks after taking two of the noodles Hyunjin was studying before. “You don’t look like you come from a party this time. Nor injured.”

Okay, game’s on. Hyunjin got much further than his imagination allowed him to. Because all this time, he only imagined how it would be to find Chan again on the convenience store – in a much more graceful way, that’s for sure. But, how is he going to explain that he wanted to give the hoodie back without sounding like a creep? How is he to voice that he yearns to talk with the blonde, to know him better, without sounding pathetic? His mind is going faster than he can comprehend, and he hasn’t even noticed how he has been standing on the middle of the store for almost 5 minutes without even talking. And in that time, Chan has been able to pay for the noodles and come back, staring amusedly at Hyunjin before his eyes landed on the piece of red and black fabric on his hands.

“You came here, at 3 am, to bring me the hoodie back?” Chan asks, and okay, now it sounds like Hyunjin is completely out of his mind and he wants to run and hide and never show his face again. He is spluttering like a fish out of water.

“I know it sounds really weird but I just couldn’t-“

“I think it’s cute,” the older stops him before he keeps digging his own grave. The younger feels his lungs fill with air finally, and he relaxes a bit. Chan is still looking at him, a strange look on his eyes he doesn’t understand and that, paired with his previous comment is making Hyunjin all fidgety again. His mother would definitely disown him if she saw him right now.

“Thanks,” is all the dark haired manages to whisper, eyes locked down onto the floor. Chan hums, before sliding his warm hand gently on Hyunjin’s arm, giving him the choice to slip away if he chooses to. But Hyunjin only follows him wordlessly, his skin feeling tingly at the contact.

“How about we eat some of these noodles and then I get you home?” The blonde suggests, but his voice is now much softer. When Hyunjin dares to look at him from under his bangs, Chan is, once again, already looking at him, that same strange look on his eyes. “As a thanks for bringing me the hoodie, even if it is at 3 am.”

“I actually wanted to treat you as a thank you…” The idea had popped on his mind somewhere on the way here, but it had been a wild card, something he didn’t know if he would be able to do. But now the older had already bought the noodles and is on the way to cook them too.

“Well, then next time is your treat,” the older has his back to him as he speaks, voice relaxed, but the thought of meeting with him once again, in this kind of fashion, it’s enough to have Hyunjin’s heart skyrocketing, head snapping to look at his wide back.

“Will you take me to the bus stop again?” asks Hyunjin once they are both seated, hot noodles in front of them and ready to eat.

“No,” replies the older, getting ready to slurp his snack. “You are lucky because tonight the restaurant closed too late and they let me keep the bike until tomorrow. I will literally take you home and make sure you are there in one piece and without a scratch.”

The dark-haired boy chooses to ignore how his heart keeps hammering on his chest at the words, concentrating instead on the new two facts: Chan works AND drives a motorcycle? That’s way too hot. But Hyunjin still doesn’t want to get home, he wants to spend some time with the blonde, get to know him even more.

“Yeah, that’s cool,” he tries to sound okay with it, stuffing his cheeks with food not to give away any of his emotions.

They both fall into a comfortable silence as they eat, each of them nursing their own thoughts. Hyunjin just wants a bit more time in this bubble where he can escape from all the ugliness of his own world, next to someone who is willing to help him without wanting something in return. He feels okay like this, a lot better than he has in a while, actually.

“Hey,” it seems like it’s always Chan breaking the silence, but all the courage Hyunjin takes up always disappears in front of him, too afraid of not being enough for him, of saying the wrong thing, of fucking everything up. “Wanna see something cool before I drop you off?”

Chan smile is big, happy, sincere. He is smiling with his whole face, eyes scrunched up and dimples showing, and it just makes Hyunjin feel warmth even in the cold of the night. So Hyunjin does the inevitable and he smiles back just as big, happy and sincere. Because that’s just how he feels next to the blonde.

“Whenever you want, biker.”

-

‘Something cool’ turns out to be one of the prettiest and most unspoilt views Hyunjin has ever seen in his whole life. He wasn’t even aware of the existence of this small forest, and even less that there is a small lake inside. The city lights do not reach this place, but there is a certain glow that makes it look and feel magical. He still walks a bit closer than he should to Chan, but it is also 4 in the morning now, and he is a bit scared.

“Are you going to kill me and bury my corpse here?” the younger jokes, a tremour hard to hide in his voice. Chan only chuckles before sitting down on the grass, close to the lake, and pats the spot next to him. “Are there bugs?”

“C’mon Hyunjin,” Chan groans, rolling his eyes playfully. “You can get into fights but can’t stand a few bugs?”

“It’s different,” the dark haired sulks, but he finally sits down and takes a moment to look around, wanting to save all of this moment in his head forever. “This place is beautiful.”

“I know, right?” Chan replies as he does the exact same Hyunjin is doing, before dropping his gaze on him. “I discovered this not long ago, I just felt I needed to share it.”

“With me?” Hyunjin jokes, still looking around. He sees the blonde shrugging from his peripheral vision.

“I thought you could see some real world beauty now and then, instead of everything they sell you as beauty.”

Hyunjin knows it’s just a comment coming from a place of ignorance, he himself could be guilty of making one. But it still fires him up, because the older is not asking but assuming. Assuming about Hyunjin, as everyone else does. He frowns, eyes now downcast and a sour taste in his mouth.

“You don’t have an idea what they sell us or not or how we live.”

“It seems like a perfect life to me,” Chan scoffs now, and it only makes Hyunjin frown deepen. Again, the assumption, the veil of what it seems instead of what it is.

“It may _seem_ perfect, but it doesn’t mean it is, you dickhead,” he wants to sound angrier than he does, but he is also tired, so, so tired from the assumptions and the pressure to be perfect, to appear perfect – from his looks to his life. “You know shit about the pressure or the shame.”

They fall into silence, and Hyunjin clenches his fists because he wants to throw a fit, get out of there and away from Chan, thinking that everything was a waste of time and no one will ever truly take him seriously apart from his face or his surname. But he literally can’t, stranded in the middle of nowhere and with a sense of direction that will make sure he is lost if he dares to get up.

A warm hand comes into contact with one of his own, slowly working it open from the tight fist until it is flat again, only the fingers peeking from behind his hoodie. The blonde is looking at his hand when Hyunjin looks up, taking his sweet time in smoothing the tension out if it before warping it up in his own, his thumb caressing Hyunjin’s knuckles.

“I’m sorry I upset you,” the older begins, voice smooth and sincere. He looks at Hyunjin from under his bangs, a hint of a smile on his full lips. “Care to educate me, then? You look and sound like you need it.”

Hyunjin smiles, feelings erupting in his chest and eclipsing all the negativity he has just felt. He smiles a bit at Chan, thanking him for the opportunity to talk and for apologizing silently, and he feels like the older knows.

“You sure it won’t bore nor bother you?”

“Why would it bother me?” Asks the blonde, slightly confused.

“Because pretty boys,” Hyunjin replies with a knowing smile, effectively making Chan laugh at the comment, nodding before shaking his head.

“You sure know more than you show, Hwang Hyunjin.”

“I am not only a pretty face, you know?” Hyunjin says as a joke, comfortable enough to share his biggest insecurity with Chan even if it’s through a meaningless joke. It’s a lot more than he has been able to do with a lot of people, including friends. He expects another bark of laugh from the older, but instead Chan’s eyes locked instantly with his, emotions flashing in the moonlight and his hold on his hand tightening for a bit before releasing it softly.

“Yeah, I am more aware the more I know you,” he says instead, voice barely above a whisper. Hyunjin gulps, avoiding the intense stare and missing Chan’s warmth on his hand.

“You might be one of the few, then,” Hyunjin decides to reply, choosing to direct the conversation back to the original topic. He knows he is risking a lot, opening himself up willingly and knowing there is no coming back from it. But there is something, he doesn’t know if it is the light of the moon, the clean air, the slow breeze or the way Chan is looking at him, but he trusts him. “Apart from Seungmin, of course.”

The older hums, letting him know he is listening without urging him to talk more. It feels good, but also the freedom to speak at his own will and without fearing saying the wrong thing is overwhelming, and he has to stop for a bit to collect his thoughts.

“I know it _seems_ perfect, that _I_ seem perfect. I am well aware of how pretty I am,” the words should be sweet, but Hyunjin almost spits them, the weight of them always make him feel trapped. “I hate being recognised by it.”

“People always assume,” Chan, on his side, bites his lip, looking a bit ashamed of himself, but Hyunjin does not acknowledge it, deciding to keep going instead. “I obviously cannot speak for anyone other than myself, I know there are people who take advantage of all of this, but I do work hard. Dancing is the only right thing in my life.”

“I’m always pretending that I’m okay with the life I got – my sister too, but we are not happy. I try to spend as little time as possible at home because it feels so empty and it makes me feel so void. And all the pressure my own parents put into me: It’s always ‘take care of your image’, ‘manage your diet’, ‘don’t gain weight’, ‘if you’re going to dance at least do it right’, ‘wear this’, ‘don’t wear that’… I can’t even remember the last time my mother asked me how I am feeling, how my studies are going, about anything other than the image I project to the world.

Because the Hwang surname is a heavy one. I honestly hate it. Hate how my father introduces me as his handsome son, talks about my looks more than he talks about my achievements. At first, I had wanted to make them proud, so I danced until my feet would bleed. Now, I dance because if I don’t I feel like I’m bleeding, because when I am dancing I take control of myself for once.”

Hyunjin looks down, missing the amazement in Chan’s eyes and the flicker of emotions he feels as the older looks right through him, as Hyunjin unveils himself from all the heavy layers and masks he has been forced to wear.

“I hate being ‘ _pretty’_ , but there is nothing I can do to change it. People see my face and forget there is a heart and a brain behind. People are… really, stupidly mean when they want to. I hate my face.”

“You should never hate who you are,” the blonde finally breaks in, stepping in when Hyunjin’s voice starts to die as his mind goes down a spiral of self-hatred he can’t control. “You said it yourself, you cannot change it.”

“Look,” Chan’s hands are on him again, this time around on his face and forcing the younger to look at him directly in the eye. “I know the world is full of dickheads, I can fully understand some of your problems. But you should take pride in who you are. Fuck your parents if they can see through the shell, because they missing the pearl inside.”

Hyunjin is trembling a bit, hearing words no one has really told him before and feeling something so hard to describe it almost makes him breathless – in a good way.

“I know it sounds easier than it is, but Jinnie, look at me,” and how could Hyunjin look at anything or anyone else. “You should be proud of yourself, of your hard work, of your passion. I feel proud of you just for telling me all this and making me swallow my words.”

The younger bites his lip, recognising the feeling as validation, and a few tears escape his eyes as he blinks. “Could-could you, erhm, could you hug me?” He finally dares to ask, and the blonde doesn’t even respond, sliding his hands from the delicate face to his waist and physically pulling him close to his chest.

“Thank you, hyung,” Hyunjin whispers a few minutes into their position, eyes drowsy and sleepy, but fighting to stay awake.

“Thank you Hyunjin, for being honest,” Chan replies, one hand treading through his hair as he looks at the sky, the first rays of sun making it purplish.

“It’s beautiful,” Hyunjin mumbles, looking at the sky.

“Yes, it is,” the older replies again, but his eyes aren’t on the sky any longer.

-

“Yah! Jeongin!” Minho screams as he crosses the living room in search for his younger brother. “Did you see Dori?”

There, on the small room they share, Minho finds the young black-haired boy confusedly looking at the book and notes in front of him, something like maths staring back at him. The boy doesn’t even lift his gaze to acknowledge his brother, distractedly humming instead.

“Did you look in the laundry room?” he asks as he scribbles some numbers down. “He really likes to be there for some reason these days.”

“I need to feed him before I go to work,” Minho mumbles, retreating into the living and walking to the small kitchen and into the laundry room, welcoming the sight of nothing. He loudly sighs, and from some part of the apartment Doongie meows back.

“Hyung,” Jeongin calls, walking out into the living room now. “I can look for him and feed him later,” the younger offers, plopping down to turn on the TV.

“Did you finish your homework?” The blue-haired asks, plopping down next to his brother.

“Did you?” retorts the younger, and Minho immediately has him in a headlock, knuckles rasping the top of his head in retaliation from his disrespect. Jeongin screeches on his hold until their mom appears on the door, screaming louder than the two before the three resort to giggling.

“This family is insane,” she says. Her turn at work has just finished since the early morning, and she looks tired and sleepy. Minho giggles once again before getting up, taking the heavy bags from her and guiding her to his previous spot. Next, he walks to the kitchen.

Sometimes, Minho feels ashamed of his humble living conditions, especially when he is at the Academy and everyone is flaunting all their expensive clothes, bags, cars and even dance instructors. Minho had to learn to dance on his own, on the streets next to a couple of friends, and his clothes are worn out and old, always saying that there is no need for him to wear new clothes to class since it’s going to end up in the same way. Most of the time, however, he feels ashamed of his silly dreams of being a professional dancer. He knows it’s not the most realistic, and he is immensely grateful for the support he has received from all the members of his family since he decided to pursue this career, but he cannot take his mind from how tired his mom looks when she comes back from work, having taken longer shifts to be able to provide more money. Or how his dad took a job that has him on the road for weeks to no end, only so Minho and Jeongin have no problem in having all they need on their education. That’s the reason why the dancer took the first job offer he found that lined with his classes and paid enough, and that’s why he applied to as many scholarships as he could, successfully getting one that would pay most of his expenses and letting the rest of the money go to Jeongin instead.

For some reason, even the scholarship makes him ashamed, and makes a good job of keeping it all hidden, sleeping in trains and buses and avoiding much interaction apart from the two young guys he feels a connection with, Hyunjin and Felix. They kind of remind him of Jeongin, and since his quality time with his little brother has been drastically reduced since he started in the Academy, the boys make a good substitute.

Said younger brother, however, is now skipping into the kitchen, opening the window to let the smoke of cooking out before positioning himself next to Minho to help him cook. It has become one of the few bonding activities they can share.

“Do you think you’ll see that guy today?” Jeongin asks as he slices vegetables for the stew.

“I hope so,” the older replies with a little smile, his mind filling with images of big round eyes and puffy cheeks. Jisung has been hanging around the club where Minho works the last weeks, but instead of causing havoc he simply sits on the bar, chatting with Minho when the older is somehow free, or simply nodding his head to the beat of the music. It’s an improvement, and one Minho feels somehow proud of.

“Stop looking like that,” Jeongin says from besides him, sounding grossed out and looking equally so.

“Like what?” Minho asks,eyebrows burrowing.

“Whipped,” the younger replies, face contorting into a grimace and Minho smiles mischievously, letting the water boil before walking to his brother.

“Aww, is my little Innie perhaps jealous?” the blue-haired says, making kissy faces and with an absurd high pitched voice. Jeongin shrieks again when his brother laps onto him, mixed screams of ‘let go’ and ‘I’m holding a knife’ mixing up as Minho keeps attempting to kiss him.

Their mom walks into the kitchen, ignoring the mess that are his two sons and looking out of the window, a delighted hum making its way out of her when she spots Dori there, relaxing by her potted plants.

“C’mon baby, your brothers are being too noisy here,” she says, the cat now carefully nestled in her arms.

-

Seungmin feels nervous, but it’s nothing new, really. He always feels nervous when he is about to be face to face with his ex-boyfriend. He has been thinking about it long and hard, the words from Woojin resonating in his head over and over again. He just wants to understand him, and he hopes that that way he and Changbin can try to solve their endless list of issues. He misses the rapper dearly, and a part of him really urges him to seek the older out at every chance he gets.

The singer gulps, once again his mind going through what he wants to say, preparing himself before knocking on the door twice. He waits a bit, listening intently in case he has to run because he can only do this if Changbin is alone there. Chan, or especially Jisung, would kick him out before he has the chance to open his mouth. Changbin is different, he is somehow willing to listen to him for a bit – or at least he was before Seungmin followed Minho and Hyunjin to the place where 3racha usually performs.

Changbin finally opens the door, black oversized shirt matching his black pants, and he looks completely surprised for a bit before his confusion turns into anger, a scowl finding home on his features.

“Really?” Is all the older says, still holding the door with his hand and Seungmin fears he is going to close it on him.

Seungmin bits his bottom lip, trembling a bit before nodding because he really isn’t sure what he is supposed to do or say with a hostile Changbin. With Changbin, he doesn’t have to act, doesn’t have to pretend he knows everything because the rapper has already seen his bare soul, and he has loved him. Changbin’s hand leaves the door and runs down his face instead.

“What do you want, Seungmin?”

“…to talk?” he finally says, but it sounds more like a question, looking like a kicked puppy to the older. Changbin sighs, muttering under his breath before finally letting him walk into his apartment, something about being cold outside leaving his lips, and Seungmin lets his heart hope.

“Then talk,” Changbin says when they are on the small living room. The younger still doesn’t understand why the rapper decided to live like this, in this place, when he could have it all so easily.

“I just want to understand you, Changbin,” he mutters, his voice small. “I miss you.”

“No,” the older says, getting up and walking a bit farther from him. “We are not getting together, Seungmin. There is no missing me.”

“Why are you so closed on giving me another chance?” Seungmin exclaims now, his hopes and heart getting crushed so soon into their conversation. “I’m making an effort here, I’m taking the first step towards you, but you keep pushing me away!”

“That doesn’t erase the way you have tried to literally buy me, Seungmin,” Changbin’s voice is cold and distant, and Seungmin hates it. “You never even said sorry.”

“Because I am not sorry for trying to give you a chance for a better life! A chance you had and threw away, too!”

“If I ‘threw’ it away coming from my parents, what makes you think I would accept it coming from you?” Changbin walks closer to him, and Seungmin hates how calm he sounds when he himself is getting so agitated trying to understand, even if he is completely failing.

“We didn’t work out, Seungmin, and you have to accept it. Before I even left my house, we were falling apart. You were jealous of _Jisung_ of all people.”

“Don’t act like you weren’t jealous of Hyunjin sometimes,” Seungmin tries to defend himself.

“Yes, I was, and that’s how I started to realize we wouldn’t work out,”

“Tell me why you walked away from me, from us, from your family, help me understand,” Seungmin is all but begging, and something about must be so foreign to Changbin that he softens a bit, shoulders deflating and eyes falling.

“Because when I get where I want to be, I want to be there on my own accord, doing the things I love and knowing I worked for it,” he says, trying to let it get to the younger’s head.

“You could also said you worked hard,” Seungmin tries to argue, weakly. He inches closer to the warmth radiating from the rapper’s body, and when Changbin lets him he counts it as a small victory in his head. At least they are not arguing anymore.

“But I would be in debt for life with my parents. I wouldn’t be free. You are not free, Min,” the older’s voice is now soft, one of his hands tenderly sweeping the hair from Seungmin’s eyes. There is a certain intimacy they had not shared in years, just the two of them in a room, being together, and the feelings are pouring out of Seungmin’s heart, its beating so accelerated he is afraid it can be heard in the small room. He looks into the eyes of the one he loves, searching for something, a flicker of emotion that just then makes appearance.

Seungmin closes the distance. They kiss. Their lips meet and it’s like coming back to a holiday home, the drag of the lips so familiar it has them yearning for more. So it’s not surprise when teeth start to meet pillowy flesh, and soon enough tongues are sweeping across to soothe the sting of bites before entering home. The younger feels euphoric as Changbin’s tongue meets his own on his mouth, a happy sigh being muted between more heated exchanges. His hands are gripping Changbin’s strong arms while the rapper’s hands are on his nape and on his face, both pressing harder, closer, until the need for air has them with burning lungs. They separate, chests heaving and panting, both with their eyes still closed and their foreheads glued together.

“I love you,” Seungmin dares to say in the silence of the room.

“I’m so sorry,” the older replies.

Seo Changbin has just broken his heart, once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you emjoyed reading this, once again. Yes, i know i am late, yes, i procrastinated. No, i dont have any excuse for it. But the important thing is that here it is finally. I have to add a few tags mentioning alcohol and anxiety, but since it wasnt very heavy i hope you could read through it without any issue!!
> 
> So, I've decided to add another chapter because i felt like only four chapters would be too rushed. So i took this chapter to have a little introduction time on the boys from the Academy, getting to know them as we did with 3racha on the previous chapter and also letting the relationships develop some more. Having to write and develop all the different relationships is harder than it looks kdfjfk also i just wanted to have a little bit of fluff before entering the angst,,,, so hold onto your seats because this is going to get sad and angsty and messy real quick.
> 
> Now, let's move onto why this chapter is named "shame".  
> -Hyunjin feels ashamed of his feelings being out there for someone that isnt himself.  
> -Seungmin's mom tries to shame Chan and Changbin.  
> -Seungmin feels ashamed of having being naive enogh to let himself be manipulated and starts to recognize not all those feelings are actually his.  
> -The shame of not being proper in this high class.  
> -Felix feels embarassed of having developed some feelings for Changbin so quickly  
> -Hyunjin's shame from his position as a "pretty face" and nothing else - the shame of his social status.  
> -Minho is ashamed of how his dreams are supposing such hard work for his family.  
> -Seungmin is once again ashamed for falling into the trick and letting Changbin break his heart.
> 
> Once again, thank you sooo much for reading this, i will try to have the next chapter uploaded the 15th of March. Have an awesome day, ily <3<3<3<3


	3. A way overdue statement.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stay safe.

Hello, author here.

As many of you are aware, it's been long overdue since I said I would update this fic. I was completely planning to do so and keep my schedule, but my laptop broke right before the pandemic broke in my country. The CoVid-19 situation soon meant we had to quarantine and it was hard to accommodate to the situation with no laptop to follow online classes and such. 

After the quarantine broke in my country, back in march, anxiety started to fill me fully. Another things started to go down in my personal life and soon enough I found myself drowning in depression once again. It was hard, and to this it still is. I reached a breaking point:, and I will puta a trigger warning for suicide right here: I could either get help or end myself in that instant. This is something im currently struggling to accept, the fact that I was more than ready to end my life.

I abandoned all social media and all forms of art I practice, I abandoned myself and stopped talking to people for months. The first time I spoke to someone again, I felt rusty, broken and unable to work through it. It's been four months since I started therapy, and even though I can say I'm better, it is hard still to get through the day sometimes.

But, enough about me. Let me briefly talk about the other reason why I'm issuing this statement: the Woojin situation. So, trigger warning for sexual abuse in the next paragraphs.

Since the last time I updated this fic, a lot of things have been going on with my view of this man. When I finally accepted that he was fired from JYPE, I decided to accept, knowing how the company works, that he had broken his contract in any way. In that time, I thought it probably meant he had been going out, and as someone the same age as him, I could understand him wanting to have a good time, but we got to remember that he was bound by contract, and that mean you have to be responsible, especially when you are the oldest in the group and an authoritative figure or someone younger members could look up to.

I believe it was in March when I saw a few kfans talk about how this man had been kicked out because of constant partying in Itaewon, and in places somehow related to prostitution. By that time, I had begun to feel uneasy whenever I saw him, I had a weird feeling about him and, being someone who has spent almost 5 years being a kpop stan, I decided to believe kfans. I silently unfollowed him everywhere and unstanned him. I did not want to have anything to do with him. I was scared of saying it in social media because I would get ticked off as a "wanti" immediately, when all I could say for myself was that I was getting weird vibes and that kfans words were making sense to me. If I'm being honest here, when I found out about his partying habits, I got really mad thinking about how his reckless actions could affect the rest of stray kids members. As I said before, when you are the oldest in a group, you have to show at least some degree of responsability, especially if we take into account that many of the members were not even legal last year. It made me really mad to think about how his reckless actions could hurt emotionally the younger members, and how it could also damage all of their careers. It made me really mad to think this man was ready to throw the seven years Chan had spent training to the trash just because he would rather party now than wait a tad longer.

The other day I decided I needed to detox from twitter, even though I only use my private account now. However, the next morning when I woke up and I entered Instagram, the first thing I saw was a fanpage with screenshots of the victim speaking out. I went to twitter through the browser and read it all carefully, and got progressively mad the more I read. Not only at this man, but also at every single person who tried to silence her. I'm not gonna say I waited for his apology or statement, because I know how South Korea works at this point. For me, for my moral code and my growth as a person, I will ALWAYS put the victim first. I don't care if you wanna bring the false accusations into play, those are uncommon that I can't even begin to think about it. And yes, I've read people say that they wanna stay neutral. I'm sorry, but no. I could understand being neutral in other situation, but this person has shown recklessness and to be uncaring of every single person other than him. This is an idol, and I've seen how South Korea treates sexual abuse allegations and feminism in general, especially when the abuser has power and money. I will never believe an idol until South Korea proves change in its sexism.

Not only that, but then came his "statement" to give it a name. Even if he, for some divine reason, proves to be innocent (which i doubt), i can never forgive someone who uses his one opportunity to clear his name to promote his solo "career" (or lack of one). I can never forget someone who takes the pain of victims of sexual abuse like it is, in his own words, "absurd allegations". You are being accused of something really, really, fucked up, something that has ruined the lives of millions of women and men, and you just have to say "haha i didn't do it, anyway stream my music". No. Fuck you. And also, really fucking weird that he said he doesn't know the victim or wasnt at the place when the victim never showed her face or name and never named a bar directly, so,,, idk you don't have to be Sherlock to see it is fishy. And all the fake company stuff. He is just digging his own grave.

Honestly, if I ever go back to this fic, and get to finish it (which I would love to do, actually), I will edit him out of everything. I'll probably do it even if i don't finish it. I don't want to ever see anything related again. I just hope and pray every. single. victim (because yes I do believe there are multiple women he has harrassed using his power and position as an "idol" - fuck you get off stray kids' backs) get the justice they deserve. And him? I do hate him now. I do, I really do. And I hope he can never close his eyes without seeing the faces of every woman he ever molested. 

That's all, stay safe xx

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, did you enjoy your read? I really hope you did! Yeah, i know, it was a long journey, it took me a long while to read and revise everything (i am my own beta reader, so if find any mistakes let me know).
> 
> Let's go step by step! First of all, this all started from a prompt i came up with on my head - 3racha and danceracha being enemies for some reason and danceracha taking 3racha's most famous song, wow, and turning it into a gay anthem (bc for me, danceracha's wow is a anthem) and making it theirs. And, 3racha, of course, is interested. And then this prompt turned into a massive whole story that involves exes, petty revenges, unresolved emotional issues and lots of money. So yay me!! It is going to be a wild ride.
> 
> I normally have a rough time deciding titles, but this one stuck to me as i was writing:  
> -3RACHA establishing their space, their zone and their home together  
> -The underground being their zone and stepping into someone else's territory being a threat to the unspoken truce.  
> -Changbin's own safe zone when teaching being also threatened by this change of dynamics, Felix being out of place - out of a safe zone for himself.  
> -Chan is stuck on a "toxic zone"  
> -Hyunjin suffers the consequences of stepping into unknown zone on this universe  
> -And, of course, the beginning of the "diss track" -yes, it will be zone.
> 
> I usually use the first chapter to establish characters overall and their circumstances, but as you can see there are a few characters we didn't see much of as of now. I wanted to first focus on 3racha and their bond and mentality before stepping into the Academy's kids. In fact, we only saw Hyunjin because i wanted to create some sort of link between chapters. So, dont worry, everyone else will make an appearance on chapter 2. 
> 
> I was a bit baffled when i started to plan this story and it turned to be so long, at first I thought it would take about 3 chapers, but seeing at this chapter only took almost 12k, i moved it up to 4 chapters, but this could change up to 5 if i feel like 4 chapters would be too rushed. I choose not to add any archive warnings, but depending on how i write what i have in mind i may change it to explicit violence (nothing too bad, i promise).
> 
> As for the next chapter, i want to put myself a set date because if i dont, i have a bad reputation of letting fics die. I am currently with my uni finals and i also have a art insta account that's on hold (check it out at @chanlestial_). I also plan on writing the last chapter of my skz fairy!au, so i will be working on both at the same time. For all these reasons, next chapter should be up on 20th February.
> 
> Also!!! I am really excited and happy as of now because im gonna see skz on May!!! I've been stanning skz for over a year and a half and this means SO MUCH to me because it will be the first time im seeing my ults live so yay!!
> 
> Lots of love and hugs and kisses, comments are kudos would be extremely appreacited!!


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